


Loose Ends

by featheredtips



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU: Vaguely Canon-compliant because IDK what to do about Kaguya, Canon is A Bit Fuzzy Right Now, EWE: Epilogue what Epilogue?, Eventual Sasuke/Naruto - Freeform, F/M, I mean very eventually, M/M, Multi, There is domesticity here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featheredtips/pseuds/featheredtips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[On Hiatus] After the war, the dust settles and one of the first things its survivors must do is pick up the pieces. Along the way, they discover that some things never fit right again, while others need some help adhering together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homebound

**Author's Note:**

> Naruto is a much beloved series of mine, but the epilogue slays me because I have so many burning questions about what happens after the war. I wrote this to lick my metaphorical fandom wounds and, maybe-hopefully in the process, manage a fluff overdose via AU-ing the hell out of the series. I have done the responsible thing and attempted to warn you of the sheer amount of self-indulgence this fic might contain, so there. D:

**Prologue**

Shikamaru’s steps are brisk despite his fatigue. He smiles grimly as he passes groups of shinobi methodically extracting themselves from Infinite Tsukuyomi cocoons.

The war is over although there aren’t so much victors as there are survivors.

Relief spreads in a heady warm rush through him as he continues picking his way north-east. HQ is a long trek from where he is and has likely been decimated, but Shikamaru is unfaltering because the crunch of Ino’s footsteps behind him are equally determined.

It is time that they see to their dead. 

Chouji is conspicuously absent, but Shikamaru understands and Ino had been the one to hip-check the other boy towards the towering figure of Akimichi Chouza. Chouji had squeezed one of their arms each in his huge hands – an exchange that meant a world of things like _sorry, I’m glad_ , and _thank you_ – before he had left.

Shikamaru slows to a stop as an Iwa shinobi pulls away from the mass of red-clad figures congregating around the Tsuchikage and his loud protestations of well-being. Ino is a silent, grounding presence at his elbow as they watch the shinobi approach, wary of where the Alliance now leaves them after the war. They relax their stances marginally as the shinobi raises their hands in an impatient but placating gesture.

It turns out to be the kunoichi that Shikamaru had glimpsed dogging the Tsuchikage’s shadow in the final battle. He guesses that he’s dealing with one of the Kage's personal guards, if not shinobi royalty.

“Kurotsuchi,” she says brusquely by way of introduction once she’s within earshot. “You’re the Nara boy?” Without waiting for a response, she jerks a thumb irritably towards the Tsuchikage. “Gramps told me to tag along with you guys.” Royalty it is, Shikamaru deduces wryly. Then with a strange air of awkwardness and grudging sympathy, her eyes flit away in the direction of HQ. “I can help with excavation. Your fathers were great men. It’s the least that Iwa can do.”

“Our thanks,” Shikamaru says after a short pause, and he means it. He turns to see Ino nodding mutely.

They reach the ruins of HQ a few hours later.

Ino’s eyes are bright as they scan the grounds, but she does not cry. There are no bodies, no dog tags. No indication that a building had been there. They had been prepared for this, but the reality of it makes Shikamaru clench his fists at his sides and close his eyes. When he opens them, he has forcibly calmed himself. He is a Konoha shinobi, and he will do his duty even in the face of personal loss. Ino’s deep, measured breaths in the ringing silence tell him that she will do the same.

“Let’s do a perimeter check,” he says mechanically. “Three-kilometre radius. We’ll reconvene here in an hour.”

Both women incline their heads wordlessly and take off in separate directions.

He doesn’t foresee the recovery of anything at this juncture, but hope against hope is rattling in his chest. Despite the war, Shikamaru is not yet enough of a shinobi to squash the helpless fury and grief that overwhelms him before he crosses the charred ground towards the nearest treeline. With one last look, he takes in the resting place of his father, then disappears into the undergrowth.

-

The number that fell in the line of duty is not unexpected, but it is unprecedented.

Some bodies are mutilated beyond recognition, their Alliance hitai-ates in tatters, blood-splattered. Dog tags are dutifully collected by survivors who are still able to walk in spite of chakra exhaustion and injuries. It is the middle of summer and the corpses will begin to rot in the humidity, so they work quickly, silently, and efficiently. Mourning will have to come later.

By the time Shikamaru’s team returns from scouting the remnants of HQ, a decision has been made by the Kages. The surviving shinobi risk infection to their wounds and further injury if they were to transport their dead. Via mass telepathy, it is announced that cremation is the only way to avoid desecrating their dead comrades even more. However, the graves erected by Doton users who had chakra to spare are respectfully filled according to each hidden village. A better part of the next two days are spent gathering bodies, with shinobi from all nations working in shifts in-between enforced rest.  

Shikamaru watches sedately from a medical tent as Naruto darts around, a one-armed, single-minded spark of colour amongst the drabness of his peers. He isn’t exhibiting his usual cheer, and what Shikamaru can discern of his expression is world-weary, but the countenance of the shinobi he speaks to are lighter afterwards, their shoulders less weighed down by grief. Uchiha Sasuke is at his side, forbidding and taciturn but, thankfully, not murderous. His corresponding lack of an arm is telling, and the quiet exchanges he has with Naruto hints at some kind of reconciliation that is unique to them.

The wonder boys’ missing team member, together with Tsunade and Shizune, has taken command at the makeshift hospital erected with Yamato’s help. Between Katsuyu, medic-nin reinforcements pouring in, and the sheer force of will possessed by all three women, critical conditions are stabilised by dusk the next day in time for the pyres to be lit. It takes a rotating roster of Katon users in order to keep the fires burning long enough for everything to turn into ash. The acrid smell of burnt flesh is rife in the air even after the ashes are sealed away in massive urns to be transported back to their respective homes.

After that is done, a shadow of anticipation seems to cloud the eyes of every person on what’s left of the battlefield. Shikamaru feels it in his bones as he grips the hands of one of the Kumo medic-nin in farewell.

 _Home_ , his blood is singing, _finally._

-

**Chapter 1: Homebound**

It is only a day’s journey back to Konoha, even with their injured bringing up the rear. The weather is typical of Fire Country’s blistering summers-- the sky is an expanse of cerulean blue, with a smattering of clouds streaking high into the horizon. The lush foliage along the route home is a far cry from the barren wasteland of war they’ve left behind.  

It is the first time in many years that Sasuke is setting eyes on the gates of Konoha without an insatiable urge to destroy all his childhood memories of the place. It is a humbling experience, just like the presence of the boy next to him who hasn’t left his side for more than ten minutes at a stretch since Sakura found them in the Valley of the End.

For the first time that Sasuke can remember since the Uchiha massacre, he is at peace with himself.

He isn’t blind to the guarded gazes from other Konoha shinobi, but Naruto’s presence has bought him temporary amnesty. He’s not an idiot either, so he doesn’t fool himself into thinking that he will be welcomed back into Konoha with open arms after being branded a criminal. The window of opportunity for that has long passed, yet in some ways, Sasuke is darkly satisfied that it has. He will have to earn his place back in Konoha the proper way as its prodigal son, not be coddled as the tragic casualty of a declined, degenerated clan.

“Ryo for your thoughts?”

Sasuke considers his once-mentor and shrugs with his good shoulder.

“I doubt they’re worth that much. What do you want, Kakashi?” he asks without heat. To his left, Naruto’s companionable silence gains a keen edge, although he does nothing but give his most convincing impression of being an unobstrusive, invisible burr in Sasuke’s side.

Kakashi’s bark of laughter is almost rueful. It is then that Sasuke truly looks at him, and a glance is all it takes to discern that the past few years have added premature lines to the older man’s face. Although, perhaps because of his resolution with Obito, Kakashi is standing tall, exhausted but entirely at ease with the world at large.

Sasuke looks questioningly at the hitai-ate covering the man’s left eye.

“Ah, this?” Kakashi scratches the side of his masked face and he’s smiling so wide underneath it that Sasuke frowns in suspicion. “Force of habit. The Sharingan’s gone. Obito… reclaimed them, so you don’t have to worry.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Don’t be daft, I’m not worried. I think they were safer with you than on anyone else.”

Kakashi looks disgustingly, positively charmed at this. It makes Sasuke blink in well-concealed unease before lengthening his strides to get away from the man. His ex-cell leader catches up in no time at all and Naruto is radiating Pleased Approval in a way that’s starting to annoy him.

“There’s also the blindness,” Kakashi says airily, a peace offering when the silence stretches for too long. “No point in displaying something that can’t work anymore.” He taps the hitai-ate over his eye in reproach, but there’s something in his tone that hints at relief.

This must be news, because Naruto breaks out of his self-imposed quiet time with a squawk and exaggerated flailing that Sasuke dodges, muscle memory at work even after all these years away.

“What?!” He’s loud enough that the shinobi around them all but do the ninja equivalent of jumping out of their skins. Several paces ahead of them, Sasuke catches the spasmodic jerk that Tenten makes for her weapons pouch. “But Sakura-chan checked your eyes and she didn’t say _anythi_ —” Kakashi’s not quite wincing in apology, but it’s enough to make Naruto throw his hand up in exasperation. “Why doesn’t anyone _tell_ me these things?!”

“Because you’re too loud about them,” Sasuke says with a grimace.

“With good reason!”

“Dobe.”

“… What the hell. You _cannot_ legitimately call me that anymore. I trounced you.”

“Idiot. We lost an arm each. It’s a tie if nothing else.”

“Okay, now you’re just being _rude_ —”

“Puppies,” Kakashi interrupts (fondly, Sasuke notes with growing horror), “peace.” He then slaps a hand unceremoniously over the growl of “I’ll show you _peace_ , sensei, _pieces_ ” because Naruto is on a roll and the exhilaration showing on his face means he won’t shut up until forced. He drags the blond along in a headlock as he explains. “I never had the chakra reserves of the Uchiha to sustain the Sharingan in the first place. Tsunade-sama said that my optic nerves are overstrained, possibly beyond repair. I can still see shapes and changes in light, but apart from that, this eye is as good as blind now.”

Sasuke is well-acquainted with the damages that his bloodline limit can do even to someone born into it. He accepts the Copy-Nin’s explanation with no comment and thinks that maybe he understands the relief behind the loss of the Sharingan.

Their discussion is interrupted by a rousing roar from the direction of the village.

A crowd, as far as the eye can see, has gathered within and about the gates of Konoha to welcome their shinobi home.

The sound of children singing a victory song rises over the din in the distinctive dialect of the Fire Country. Sasuke remembers the words from his Academy days, although the dialect itself has been lost to him, buried with the numerous other lessons his clan had tried to impart. The surrounding Konoha-nin seem to rise to arms as the song escalates, heads held high and proud as they pick up the pace. Their march is that of a returning army come home to the waiting arms of those they went to war for.

Sasuke hesitates.

A faltering step later, his vision is swathed in pink, and Sakura has manoeveured him and Naruto until their remaining hands are in hers. She clutches both of them fiercely to her and pulls them forward, her gaze steely but fixed on something faraway. Naruto is laughing now, a low sound in his throat that is delight, longing, and heartbreaking joy rolled into one. Behind them, Kakashi is a warm, familiar presence.

Sasuke allows himself to be pulled along.

And even if he won’t consider himself one of Konoha’s own again until he’s earned the right to be back, there is a startling certainty that this _\- Team Seven -_ will always be his from here on out.

That is enough to make him feel welcomed home.

-

Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t exactly a walk in the park for Naruto to gather natural energy and slip into Sage Mode. That this is the third time since the morning that he has been called on to sense out their wayward Hokage is starting to get ridiculous. Not that he will ever voice his opinion out loud. Iruka-sensei is a good man, a nice man, and an absurdly efficient aide to the Hokage. However, there is something absolutely terrifying about him when he’s stressed and feeling cornered.

The point is -- Kakashi is turning out to be the best worst-Hokage in the history of Konohagakure. His predecessors would have been appalled and impressed in equal measure.

Naruto lands nimbly on the roof of the pharmacy and surveys the village, a contented smile tugging at his lips.

It is four months after the war and a little over a month since the inauguration of the Rokudaime Hokage. Anyone who ventures into the Hokage Tower emerges spewing paperwork from their eyeballs, but Konoha is recovering. It shows in the hustle and bustle of the town and the steady sounds of rebuilding.

Naruto grins as Yamato-taichou’s chakra flares in the distance. The man had been recruited to erect scaffolding in order to hasten construction efforts in lieu of missions. He hadn’t been too happy about the arrangement but, seriously, _no one_ argues with Iruka-sensei. Especially when he sits behind his desk surrounded by mountains of paperwork and politely requests that you dig deep for your Will of Fire and _repair the_ _goddamn village_.

Within three weeks, the hospital is spanking new and raring to go. Tsunade is managing the hospital now that she’s retired the hat and runs a tight ship with Sakura and Shizune by her side. New wings, as well as a Recuperation and Rehabilitation ward, have been added during the hospital’s reconstruction to accommodate for shinobi incapacitated for the long term in the war.

Naruto knows exactly which room he’ll find his Hokage in.

Dropping into the hospital compound, he heads for the open window on the ground floor at the corner of the building. He pushes the fluttering white curtains aside and sticks his head in.

“Kakashi-sensei,” he says reproachfully, mindful to be quiet for once as he takes in the room’s patient.

“Ah.” Kakashi’s smile is unrepentant and Naruto can’t help bristling because he’d had to suffer _Iruka-sensei_ for this man. “Come to drag me back, have you?” He stretches from his slouch next to Gai’s unconscious form, then stands as he pockets his book. The sight of the little orange volume sends a twinge to Naruto’s gut, so he doesn’t allow his gaze to linger. Instead, he huffs and crosses his arms.

“You bet I am! Stop making Iruka-sensei send me after you,” Naruto grumbles. “You’re going to drive him into an early grave, then nobody’s going to want to be your aide and it’ll serve you right.”

“Not true,” Kakashi protests mildly, “I have it on good faith and solid blackmail that Genma will take over if Iruka deserts me.”

“You wouldn’t,” Naruto says in disbelief, “Don’t get me wrong, Genma’s great and all, but _I’ll_ desert you if you put him in charge of administration. Konoha will die.”

“Oh, saucy. Don’t make me send you on a courier mission. Sensei is Hokage, you know. I can do stuff like that now.”

Naruto levels Kakashi his best _you-wouldn’t-dare_ glower and stalks away from the window, because he’s never been good at verbal sparring unless his opponent is hell bent on world annihilation or self-destruction. He figures that’s why he and Sasuke get along. They’re both good at getting words in edgewise between sucker punches to the face, whereas Naruto can’t exactly right-hook the leader of his village.

Kakashi falls into step next to him and they vault over to the roof of the next building together.

The silence is comfortable. Naruto knows better than to ask about Gai. He hears enough about it from Lee and Sakura. The man’s life is out of danger, but Tsunade has informed them that Gai will never again recover the use of his legs. The only thing left is for him to wake up. He has a faithful rotation of loved ones who keep vigil by his bedside, waiting for him to do just that. Tenten and Lee, in particular, practically live there in between their missions. With Neji gone – and the thought of it still hits Naruto like a kunai to the heart and makes him _ache_ – Gai is all their team has left.

“Has Tsunade-sama said anything about your arm replacement yet?” Kakashi asks eventually.

“Err.” Naruto looks down his right to see the empty sleeve of his jumpsuit flapping in the wind. The stump where his arm used to be makes a clear impression against the fabric. He shrugs. “Sakura-chan said they’re working on it. Last I heard, there were complications. Something about reconstructing chakra pathways. How’s your eye, by the way?” he asks as they step through the window on the third floor of the Hokage Tower and make to walk the rest of the way up.

“Same old,” Kakashi replies, a note of frustration in his voice that Naruto has learned to pick up on. “It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t have to read through reports all the time. At this rate, I’ll be blind in both eyes before I’m thirty. Shizune suggested that I wear prescription glasses. Glasses!” he mutters snidely.

Naruto grapples with the image that the word conjures and has to stop before he gets a headache. There are enough things on Kakashi’s face as it is.

“Although,” Kakashi brightens considerably as they round the corridor leading up to his office, “Iruka will probably have to deal with all the paperwork if I _do_ go blind. Ah, bliss. I hope I go blind.”

“ _Do you?_ ” comes a deadly hiss from directly behind them. “I’d be more than happy to help if that’s the case, Hokage-sama.”

Naruto’s survival instincts have him throwing himself out the nearest window as Iruka bears down upon them. On the way, he makes sure to trip Kakashi, interrupting the man’s frantic Kawarimi hand seals. There is madness in the chakra that erupts behind him from Iruka as the Hokage goes down with a wail of _“Naruto, you traitor!”_ , so Naruto isn’t going to be dumb enough to hang around and watch the ensuing bloodbath.

He heads to the south of the village where the sprawling Uchiha compound is. Home is there now. The thought makes Naruto beam.

One of the apartment complexes that had been destroyed during Pein’s invasion had included Naruto’s home. Upon returning to Konoha, he had found himself without a house, although all his belongings had been sealed into a scroll during his multiple travels. Shikamaru had been quick to offer his home, as had several other friends, but Naruto had rejected them all in favour of insinuating himself obnoxiously back into Sasuke’s life.

Sasuke didn’t chuck him out the first time he had stood in front of the Uchiha wards and all but hollered _Sasuke, honey! I’m home_. What he _had_ done was appear at the gates five minutes later looking like the ruffled wrong end of chicken with Kusanagi clutched tightly in his fist. Absolutely no one in the world except for Sasuke could make “What do you want?” sound like he was imagining your insides boiling in acid. Naruto had felt the inexplicable urge to hug the bastard even if he got stabbed for it because he had _missed_ this.

“I don’t have a home now,” he had explained instead. “Let me stay at yours?”

Sasuke had looked at him for a long moment, long enough that Naruto had started fidgeting, before letting out a breath. Then he had taken Kusanagi to Naruto’s finger faster than the eye could see, nicking it just enough to draw blood.

“Ouch! What--! You could’ve just said no, teme!”

Sasuke had rolled his eyes, yanked Naruto bodily within the wards, and then bitten his own finger all in one fluid move. For a wild moment, Naruto thought that Aoda was going to be summoned just to haul him out of Uchiha property.

Then he realised that he could _see_ a web of chakra shimmering about and over the walls. It felt distinctly hostile, like having a kunai held to your jugular.

Sasuke made hand seals that Naruto didn’t recognise and pressed his hand to one of the red pillars flanking the gateway. A second later, he gestured for Naruto to do the same, which he did even though he was completely perplexed by this point.

“Push your chakra into the wood.”

Naruto had stared at him uncomprehendingly. “… You _want_ me to Rasengan this?”

Sasuke had looked pained, then unfairly irritated even though he was the one being a mystical asshole.

“No, _dobe_ — _”_   “Hey! We’ve talked about that! _”_   “--I’m keying your chakra signature into the wards. Feed it in.”

“Why?” Naruto had asked even as he did as instructed.

Another long moment passed between them, during which Naruto kept a firm eye on Kusanagi.

“You astound me,” Sasuke had said eventually. “I can’t believe we beat Madara.” He pulled his hand away and re-entered the compound, as good an invitation as any.

Naruto blinked as he felt the pressure of the wards around him lift.

“Huh—hey! What does that even _mean_? Did you just insult me?” He ducked in front of the other boy, head canted to the side. “Does that mean I can stay?”

Sasuke had stopped dead in his tracks, closed his eyes, lips pressed together in a thin, thin line. It was a day for long, confusing moments of silence, but Naruto stood resiliently in the face of it. Finally, Sasuke’s shoulders seemed to sag and he had brought his hand up and braced it against the space between his eyebrows.

“Yes, Naruto, you can stay.” Then, “the wards now recognise you as family, you idiot.”

And that had taken Naruto’s breath away, so he had magnanimously let the insult slide and followed Sasuke’s lead.

Presently, he crashes his way through the front door of Sasuke’s family home and relishes in being able to call a greeting into the stillness of the house. He’s struggling to toe his sandals off – he never had to in his old apartment, but the Uchiha houses are all tatami – when a shadow falls over him. Sasuke is standing before the genkan, barefoot and dressed in a simple yukata, clearly freshly awoken from a nap.

“Welcome back,” he says flatly, stifling a yawn. He isn’t smiling, because Sasuke never does these days, but his eyes are warm, and that is enough for Naruto.

-

The Yamanaka flower shop had been in business since the time of the Shodaime. It survived the Shinobi Wars, had been one of the few shops to reopen after Pein’s destruction, and had continued to be run by the Yamanaka matriarch even throughout all the fighting that happened after.

Ino pushes her way past the glass doors into the shop’s dark interior, absently making sure that the ‘closed’ sign remains facing outwards. It has been months since her return and the shop has yet to see fresh flowers sitting in its aisles, bright colours a gay contrast against stone tiles and pale yellow walls.

The clan is still grieving over her father, her mother a pale spectre of the woman she used to be. As the newly instated Yamanaka Clan Head, Ino cannot fill his impossibly large shoes or the silence that rings in the house without his presence. The vastness of her father’s shadow is suffocating and there is so much that she doesn’t know, that he never had the time to impart to her before he was murdered.

She misses him terribly. Enough that she found herself in front of the mirror several nights ago, a kunai in one hand, trying to hack away at her hair so that she wouldn’t have to look at his reflection in the mirror every day and be reminded that _he wasn’t here anymore_. She stopped when the portion of hair she was holding had been sheared off to her ears. It was a terrible look on her, and she didn’t look any less like Inoichi for it.

She had wondered then when growing her hair out had become less about catching Sasuke’s attention and more about emulating her father, about tracing his footsteps. She had wondered how Shikamaru could stand it, how people carried on after losing family. Asuma had been close like family, but Inoichi had been – _was, is still_ \- her father.

She had met Team Ten the next day still in a daze.

Chouji had taken one look at her and seemed to break at the seams. He had gathered her into his arms like she was made of precious glass and held her, and she had noted vaguely that her boys had grown so much, so tall, so big. She didn’t cry, couldn’t cry. Minutes later, she had felt Shikamaru’s hand tugging gently at the choppy locks of hair, brushing stray strands from her face.

“Keep your hair long,” he had said simply. “It suits you.”

There was tiredness lurking in Shikamaru’s eyes when she lifted her head from Chouji’s chest to look at him, leaning into his palm. A cigarette hung from his lips and the shadow of a goatee was appearing on his chin.

She had reached out and grazed her fingers along his jaw.

“This suits you too, Shikamaru.”

His mouth had quirked into the barest of smiles.

“Thanks.”

They had cancelled training that day and stumbled into the Akimichi house together.

Chouji’s mother had visibly reined in her emotions as they entered even as her lips trembled with the effort. She had settled them kindly around the living room with express instructions not to move except to get food, then headed out the door with her back set in a determined line. It wasn’t half an hour later that she returned with Yoshino and Ino’s mother in tow. Chouza emerged behind them as if on cue, carrying a massive grill and stacks upon stacks of packaged meat.

Yoshino had set her jaw upon seeing them, then swept her son into a crushing hug. Ino’s mother had approached her far more tentatively, before slowly, carefully lacing their fingers together and squeezing them tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she had whispered. Then, “I’m very proud of you, Ino.”

All of them had been herded into the back porch where the grill was being set up. Soon enough, there had been the smell of yakiniku cooking in the air and plates began to pile high.

Ino had pushed her food around her plate for several moments before taking a decisive mouthful too big for her to chew properly. It was rude, unsightly, and her father had always told her to behave like a lady if she wanted to find a man good enough for her.

It had taken two seconds, and then she was bawling, hot tears running down her cheeks as she chewed and cried.

“I _miss_ him,” she had sobbed brokenly, “I miss my daddy.” Because she had been his princess, pride and joy, and she had loved him, _still loves him_ , idolised him, and worshipped him. Ino wiped her eyes fiercely with one hand, then speared more meat onto her chopsticks with the other.

Shikamaru had collapsed into Yoshino’s side, deathly pale, his eyes bright and mouth downturned stiffly. He lasted a good minute before slumping over the table, sending food and cutlery scattering. The broken sound he made was enough to set Ino off again as she repeated the motion of stuffing her mouth full, chewing, crying, and then _again_.

Chouji had looked on helplessly, feeling their loss as keenly as they did. Chouza and Yoshino, who were seasoned shinobi, had watched as their family broke. And it was a family, _their_ family. Because Ino-Shika-Chou had never been anything else but a whole unit. So they watched and waited in the wings to put everyone back together in spite of their own loss.

By the time evening had fallen, the grill was going on once more, and though the mood was still sombre, unbridled grief had temporarily tapered off into heartache. No one had the energy to do anything but eat. They ate, remembered, and grieved properly as the darkness fell. At the end of the night, all of them had toasted the memory of Nara Shikaku and Yamanaka Inoichi with the best sake in the Akimichi stores.

They had stayed together, all of them, for another two days before deciding that they couldn’t leave their own homes unattended any longer. A wordless exchange of hugs and meaningful looks – _you’re always welcome back, take care, come home some time soon_ \- took place at the Akimichi gates before they had gone their separate ways.

Ino’s mother had bussed her on the forehead, eyes calm and centred, then retired to the clan grounds, a knowing look on her face.

Ino touches her forehead now and smiles wistfully at her reflection in one of the fridges where they usually stock freshly picked flowers or bouquets.

She crosses the room in three strides and throws all the windows wide open to let the wind and sunlight in. The light casts dappled patterns on the stone floors that are the colour of her hair. She then marches resolutely towards the broom sitting in the corner.

She has a lot to do to make sure that the shop is fit for business by the next morning.    

Squaring her shoulders, she sets about bringing life back into the store, her heritage, and her father’s legacy.

 


	2. Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my wayward hand at consistent updates, so most chapters will likely be up within a week of the other. Also, in case no one's noticed, I have a soft spot for Team Asuma a mile wide that is anchored deep within my soul and will feature in this. And: eventual Sasuke/Naruto means exactly that. They will be the final pairing of this series, or I'll die trying, so help me. In the meantime, if there are any side pairings, hold on to your knickers. Naruto has always been my fandom bicycle and I did mention that this fic was about shameless self-indulgence. I'll try not to abuse it. D:

Sasuke is under Konoha’s very misguided version of house arrest. It’s a condition he had agreed to in exchange for being able to return to the village, but he is almost bewildered by Konoha’s seeming lack of expertise at handling its own homegrown convicts.

To begin with, his jailer is Naruto, which, in itself, speaks volumes for the village being run by a bunch of bleeding hearts. He hasn’t sensed any other guards watching him or tracking his movements when Naruto leaves. He’s had to venture out for groceries a few times because Naruto is a complete imbecile when it comes to running a house, but he has gotten nothing more than a few curious looks from other villagers.

None of his abilities have been sealed either, another thing he has decidedly mixed feelings about. He had barely been dragged away from the hysterical edge of megalomania— the least a hidden village could do was exhibit some degree of healthy paranoia and enforce precautionary measures. Like blinding him. Or, in the likelihood of Naruto going ballistic over that, sealing the Sharingan temporarily. None of that has happened so far. Furthermore, he has the keys _and_ power to exercise all the wards to his own prison cell—his clan’s estate had remained surprisingly unsullied during his absence.

If he isn’t dead from the inanity of this treatment by the end of his almost self-imposed punishment, he’s going to force a list of sanctions and protocols for handling criminals on Naruto when he becomes Nanadaime.

All of it is a thoroughly surreal experience. Almost as disconcerting as listening to Naruto point out, with his mouth full, that he is allowed to redecorate the house if he wishes.

Sasuke sets his chopsticks down over his bowl, face carefully blank, and reaches for his tea.

“No.”

“Why not?!” Naruto demands immediately, then snaps his mouth shut too late to prevent rice from being spat all over the table and in Sasuke’s face. This is followed by him flailing in apology and somehow upending his bowl of miso.

Sasuke spares a second to brush rice from his hair and idly wonders how his mother would have reacted if she had seen soup dripping onto her once-immaculate tatami. He and Itachi had learnt early in their childhood that retribution from their mother often came swiftly and creatively.

However, he isn’t his mother, so Naruto’s comical expression of utter, convulsive horror appeases him enough that he rises to fetch a cloth. The blond is an interesting jumble of accusatory gazes and guilty chagrin as he mops up the mess. He is so ineffectual at it that Sasuke might need to redecorate after all, if only to replace the floors.

“Not that I hate you for it or anything, but I can’t wait to get my right arm back,” Naruto grimaces, struggling to pick his chopsticks up in his left hand. “This one sucks. It never listens to me.” He is eyeing his empty bowl with the kind of despondence usually reserved for finding kittens dead on one’s doorstep. Sasuke flicks his eyes to the ceiling, then pushes his own unfinished bowl over. He never makes meals for more than two, so there aren’t any leftovers for Naruto’s ridiculous appetite.

“Hn, I don’t mind either way,” he says, watching as his housemate lights up before digging in with gusto. Messy, uncoordinated gusto. “Clearly, you never did the exercises for using both hands at the Academy, dobe.”

Naruto rolls his eyes with feeling, but very firmly keeps his full mouth shut this time.

Naruto’s obscene lack of table manners makes itself known in the form of a loud belch as he sets the bowl aside. He pats his stomach with a pleased grin before stretching out on the available tatami that isn’t miso-flavoured.

“Thanks for the meal. And—hey! Just because you’re ambidexturous doesn’t mean we can all be, you raging asshole,” he retorts, but his tone is light.

All their interactions have been like that in the recent months since Naruto started living in the Uchiha compound. Not quite tentative, but also void of the tumultuous familiarity they had once shared built on mutual antagonism.The insults and ribbing are still present, but it’s become bantering instead of about actively trying to gouge open emotional wounds.

It still catches Sasuke unawares when he glimpses sides to Naruto that have developed in their time estranged from one another. He’s still loud, affectionate, and a complete idiot most of the time. Yet Sasuke is also privy to Naruto’s moments of outright brilliance and keen perception, traits that only used to be exhibited in the face of some life-changing peril.

It’s sobering to know that they’ve grown up.

Sasuke snorts under his breath, a sound that has Naruto looking up at him like a ninken.

“Just for that, you’re doing the dishes for the next week,” Sasuke says, rising and clearing their table.

“What!” Naruto pushes himself up on his elbows and whines. “Even on the days that I cook? But that wasn’t in the contract! I’ll tell Sakura-chan you’re abusing your powers as landlord.”

“There _was no contract._ You barged into my house, _”_ Sasuke responds mulishly, because that is a veiled threat. Sakura has voluntarily become the referee for all their arguments and she’s a little too zealous about it for his tastes. “Also, bringing back ramen from Ichiraku isn’t cooking.”

There’s grumbling from behind him, then Naruto chases him out of the kitchen in order to do the dishes, something he claims he can’t do with Sasuke breathing down his neck about his mother’s china. Sasuke has done no such thing. He had made a comment just that _one time_ after Naruto had chipped his seventeenth piece of dinnerware in a span of five days.

After Naruto leaves the house for the day, Sasuke is, as usual, left to his own devices to pass the time. He doesn’t mind the lack of things to occupy him. In the years following his clan’s demise, he has not allowed himself any rest. By contrast, five months doing little but meditating, training, and tending to the upkeep of his clan buildings isn’t very much downtime at all.  

He is about to head out to the family shrine when a hawk swoops in through the window bearing a missive clutched in its talons.

His eyes narrow at the colour of the scroll and its unique markings. The hawk dismisses itself in a puff of smoke once it’s within the room, dropping the scroll before Sasuke. He frowns. A summons then. He can only think of a number of reasons why one would be used instead of the usual carrier bird and none of them are good.

The Sharingan and Rinnegan aren’t picking up anything from the scroll, but he stands a short distance away nevertheless, performs the requisite hand seals and undoes the binding with Kusanagi. The scroll unfurls harmlessly to show the distinctive calligraphy of someone he definitely hasn’t expected to hear from ever again.

He scans its contents warily. Several minutes later, he releases a controlled Katon and destroys it.

He spends the next two hours making decisions and running simulations in his head. They come to him easily, as though there had never been a lull after the war. When he is done strategising and coming up with several contingency plans, he rises and heads for his room.

He has preparations to make.

Five months had been a short luxury indeed.

-

Sakura wonders when the war will be over for medic-nins.

Probably never.

She has just come from her rotation on the ground floor and been treated to the sight of Lee, fresh from a mission if his bruises are anything to go by, out cold next to Gai’s bed.

With Gai out of commission, Sasuke under parole, and Kakashi becoming Hokage, Lee has become Konoha’s resident taijutsu specialist. Konoha had emerged from the war with the most collateral damage done to its infrastructure out of all the hidden villages. What with more than half of the shinobi population lost to the war, it had no choice but to run its remaining ninja ragged in order to keep up an influx of funds to sustain the village.

Their shinobi need all the rest they can get if and when they get home. Sakura understands very well Lee’s obsessive need to keep vigil by his mentor’s bedside—she has spent most of her young adulthood doing that for multiple people, some on more occassions than others. But she wants to avoid another filled hospital bed if she can help it.

At the moment, Lee has been moved into a makeshift cot and left in Gai’s ward to sleep off his exhaustion. It goes against established hospital procedure, but Sakura will always have a soft spot for Lee. Lee who has never disappointed her, never made her cry, and always had her at the back of his mind. She’s sorry that she’ll likely never love him in any way other than as a brother, but she will do all in her power to ease his burdens. This is especially the case when Tenten is away on a separate mission and not on hand to moderate her teammate when he’s home.

It is early in the morning, but Sakura is running on empty.

It is the result of having been called in several hours before to stabilise complications in one of the Hyuugas injured during the war. The fact that Kou is Hinata’s personal bodyguard had made the summons all the more urgent. Hinata is kind, determined, and madly in love with Naruto. It is the least Sakura can do to ensure that she doesn’t lose another family member. She would help with matchmaking too if only Naruto’s attentions didn’t belong solely to Sasuke at the moment. Those two have always existed in a world of their own, something not even she has been allowed into.

The thought leaves Sakura weary and a little bitter, a feeling she has long since accepted as part of her interaction with her team. It isn’t as though it’ll make her love her boys - _her brothers_ \- any less. It’s just frustrating when they are such idiots sometimes that she has to meddle before they kill themselves just by _being_ boys.  

Lost in thought and, quite honestly, exhausted, she misses the next step on her way up to the second floor. She throws out a hand, already channelling the precise amount of chakra needed to catch herself, but is saved from the need to do so by someone gently lifting her by the waist and setting her on her feet.

She blinks at her saviour in surprise, too tired and grateful to feel embarrassed.

“Chouji?”

The Akimichi shoots her a small smile. “All right there, Sakura?” He peers at her from underneath a rich mane of hair, eyes assessing her the same way any shinobi would with an injured comrade. He frowns a second later. “You don’t look too good. Everything okay?”

This makes Sakura laugh, because it’s an obvious understatement and shows how thoroughly Chouji has been schooled by long term association with Ino.

She dusts herself down and tucks an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve felt worse,” she replies wryly, “but, yes, I’m very tired. Thanks for the save.”

“Ino would’ve my hide if you got hurt and I could have prevented it,” Chouji says with a grimace. He draws a thumb grimly across his own neck. “So, really, don’t mention it.”

Sakura grins, feeling her spirits lift. “What are you doing here, anyway? A bit early for visiting, isn’t it?” A worried pause, then, “ _Do_ you have someone here who needs visiting?” Because almost everyone does these days, and she can no longer keep track of who belongs to whom.

Chouji dispels her concerns with a wave of his hand.

“No, no, that’s not it. Don’t worry. Mirai-chan is just down with a fever and Kurenai-sensei is checking in with Tsunade-sama.” His expression reflects exactly how uneasy he is with the fragility of babies in general. “Shikamaru was called in to the Hokage Tower this morning and Ino had to open shop, so it was just me left.”

Sakura is paying half an ear’s attention to him. Mentally, she’s calculating exactly how much she knows about pediatry. Not that she doesn’t trust her shishou - not at all, she’s still years behind in terms of experience - but she has some off-the-record knowledge on concocting new medicines, partly from her time in Suna, and also because she’s had to listen to Ino since they were children. In the event that Mirai-chan has caught some new strain of virus, perhaps she could quarantine it before it got worse—

“Sakura,” Chouji interrupts her musings, voice gentle but firm. “Mirai-chan is okay. You, on the other hand, should get some rest.”

“Huh, what— No, wait—!” Sakura isn’t able to get her objections out before she’s being steered downstairs, Chouji’s hand warm and light against one shoulder blade. Any number of arguments she might have raised promptly wither in her mouth as they cross paths with her master and Kurenai exiting from one of the examination rooms.

Tsunade gives her a cursory once-over and glares.

Sakura is a capable, eighteen-year-old kunoichi. She commands respect on all fronts of the village as one of the leading medic-nin in the Shinobi Alliance. That does absolutely nothing to stop her from being cowed by a mere look from a woman a hundred times more formidable than she is.

“Breakfast,” Tsunade orders sternly, her tawny eyes daring Sakura to protest. “Then home, and I don’t want to see you in here until next week. Akimichi, see that it happens, or it’s on you. Leave your sensei to me.”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama,” they chorus meekly, although Chouji has the most quietly pleased expression Sakura has ever seen on him.

Not that she usually pays him much mind, she thinks almost guiltily as she is escorted through the hospital double doors. She distantly despairs of Sasuke and Naruto when Chouji is a complete gentleman and holds the door for her.

She’d never really noticed Chouji before. It’s almost worrying how easy the Akimichi are to dismiss if they aren’t on the battlefield. They’re one of Konoha’s four noble clans and the most prolific too, with over a hundred clan members on the register of shinobi that Sakura had to memorise as part of her training. By comparison, the Aburame are not many in number due to their unique position as parasitic hosts and the Hyuuga are blood purists of the highest degree, so it’s unusual to hear of marriage outside of the clan, something that limits their numbers.

With a twinge, Sakura thinks of how the Uchiha are down to their last remaining member. Then she finds herself thinking drolly that she hasn’t met a single Akimichi with a mean bone in their body, unlike most Uchiha she’s had the honour of meeting. If Chouji’s clan ruled the world, everything might’ve been sunshine and daisies.

“You’ve got the same look Ino gets when you guys are thinking about something _really_ weird,” Chouji informs her mildly as they pass Ichiraku and head to a soba shop the next street over. Sakura appreciates the thoughtfulness. She doesn’t think ramen at eight in the morning will sit well when she collapses in bed later. Seriously, _her teammates_.

“It’s nothing earth-shattering,” she replies. “I’ve just decided that maybe your clan should rule the world.”

Chouji raises both eyebrows and laughs in surprise. “Well, that’s not something we hear every day.”

Sakura slips into a booth and snorts. “Well, it should be. You guys are _nice_ , really nice. And you don’t have weird world domination eyes. We’d never have to worry.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” Chouji retorts with a chuckle as he gestures for four portions of soba. “We’ll have a massive food shortage. _Then_ we’ll have to go to war over bags of rice. It won’t be pretty.”

“A sense of humour, too,” Sakura observes in near disbelief. “That settles it. You can be the Nanadaime Hokage. I’m rooting for you.”

She might be a little more tired than she’d thought.   

Chouji is a good sport though. He just shakes his head and comments, “It’s rare for us to be without our teams, isn’t it?”

“Yes, we should do it more often,” Sakura says, then winces, “Sorry. I don’t mean to not socialise, but Ino is usually all I have the energy to focus on around you guys. I love her, but sometimes…” she mock-strangles the air for emphasis, which Chouji laughs good-naturedly at. For a split second, she has to marvel at how lucky Ino is in her comfortable friendship with Shikamaru and Chouji. Their families get along, have done so for generations, and they’re close like real siblings are.

There’s a sudden silence from Chouji that feels heavy. If that isn’t an indication that he has some uncomfortable topic to broach, Sakura isn’t worth her salt as the only girl in a team of infuriating, emotionally constipated boys. Kakashi-sensei included.

“What is it?” she asks. “Out with it, I usually interrogate with my fists if I’m too worn-out like I am now.”

He nods warily, but there’s amusement in his eyes.

“If you’re free during your break till next week, perhaps you wouldn’t mind spending some time with Ino?” It’s just a suggestion, but Sakura can see that it’s not a small matter. She abruptly forgets her own fatigue, paying rapt attention. “She’s just having a hard time. Her mum isn’t a shinobi like Yoshino-bachan. She’s better now, but she needs a friend. If you’re not too busy, of course. Shikamaru and I are there for her, but we’re— we’re not enough.” There is helpless frustration etched into the lines of his face, and Sakura can empathise.

“Of course, definitely,” she promises even as a wave of remorse hits her like a slap across the face for not noticing what her best friend had been going through. She’s had excuses, all of them valid, but in the end, none of them should have been any more important than tending to a friend who’d just suffered a loss. “Was it… bad?”

Chouji’s expression clouds over, and that is answer enough.

On her way home – because Ino might be her friend in need, but Chouji is under orders with bodily harm on the line if he fails – Sakura runs through a list of flowers and their meanings in her head. She’ll have to pick one that she can find in the surrounding forests of Konoha before dropping by the Yamanaka flower shop tomorrow. After which, she isn’t leaving Ino alone ever again.

Her teammates might be idiots about a lot of things, but when it comes to dedication and bonds, theirs is among the strongest she’s ever witnessed in any two people.

Perhaps it’s time she takes a leaf from their book.

-

Naruto is man enough to admit that he isn’t always the sharpest shuriken in the pouch. But that doesn’t mean that he’s totally stupid. He _is_ a shinobi even if he’s been told he’s got a unique understanding of what his profession entails. Therefore, with all the powers of shinobi wrongfully and awesomely vested in him—

He’s certain that Sasuke is hiding something.

He thinks with no small amount of resignation that it’s likely something that they’re going to argue about and then beat the shit out of each other over. After that, they’re both going to be carted to the hospital in small containers after Sakura has gone ten rounds with them, because they’re bigger men than people think, and they’d never hit her in retaliation (if they even could, seeing as – what the hell – Sakura-chan has gotten _monstrous_ in recent times).

He has concluded that it isn’t the miso-tatami incident from two weeks ago that’s making Sasuke sulk up a storm. Not that his expression has seen much deviation from then. Naruto’s just a regular seer when it comes to the other boy, because _feelings of brotherhood_ and all that. This here is bigger than the heir of the Uchiha fortune being petty about replacement mats.

So Naruto is on a stake-out mission, determined to find out what his best friend is up to. He’s been at it for three days to no avail, but he is nothing if not sheer pigheadedness so he’s perservering on one of the roofs of the Uchiha compound. He’s even shed his usual jumpsuit for a mesh shirt and other things he temporarily liberated from Sasuke’s closet in order to blend in.

Talk about sacrifices.

The other boy isn’t even being remotely worth the effort. He’s spent the past two hours cleaning his family shrine. Not that Naruto means any disrespect, not in the least. But it is sweltering, there are bugs _everywhere,_ and why can’t Sasuke ever just _tell him what’s going on_?

“You realise those are my pajamas you’re playing Ninja in.”

Naruto doesn’t shriek, but it’s a near thing. He does, however, flinch very violently and almost bites his tongue off. Subtle. Not that it would have counted towards anything, since Sasuke is still looking distinctly unimpressed.

“They’re good for recon,” he grumbles moodily after a moment, his heart still in his throat. He stands and hitches up Sasuke’s black pajama bottoms. “You need a new wardrobe.”

“Recon?” Sasuke asks, because he’s always been the sharpest, most annoyingly battle-ready shuriken in the same pouch that Naruto is in, and can’t be distracted by offhand comments about his fashion sense. Sasuke sighs, then picks Naruto up by the scruff of his neck – seriously, who _does_ that – and shunshins down to the street. There’s a clatter in the shrine behind them as his clone there disappears. “What are you doing, dobe?”

“It’s not my fault!” Naruto says defensively. When that only earns him a flat, impassive stare, he decides gamely to lie through his fucking teeth. “I was only curious about what you got up to in the day. You would never tell me if you’re lonely and I have to know these things.”

“I see.” Ah-ha! “So you were curious for three days.”

Damn it. “I could have been,” he says lamely.

“ _Naruto_.”

“Okay, okay! Keep your Sharingan in your pants, oh my god.” That earns him an amazingly pissy look that he has to grin at. “You’re being all shifty and secretive and I want to know why. So there.”

They duck into the house and toe off their sandals. Sasuke’s expression hasn’t budged an inch, which Naruto knows is Asshole-Speak for being floored. The Uchiha buys himself time by ignoring Naruto and heading to the kitchen to make tea, so Naruto traipses after him and waits it out.

If this had been two years ago, they’d be grappling on the floor, forgetting what the fight is even about. However, he has calmed down since, isn’t quite as rash as when he was sixteen. Also, Kakashi-sensei told him a while ago that diplomacy was about baiting a trap and waiting for your opponent to activate it willingly, which was a hell of a lot clearer than Iruka-sensei’s explanation about why he’d need it as Hokage in the future.

Sasuke sets the teacups down and takes a seat, all with deliberate slowness that is starting to make Naruto uneasy. Then he looks Naruto in the eye and quietly says—

“I’m leaving Konoha.”

Naruto spends the next few moments with his world swept away from underneath him.

He’s disturbed enough to hear Kurama surfacing from the depths of his mind with a _What the hell is wrong with you, kid?_ which he ignores.

He’s angry, too, absolutely furious, but he reins it in with great effort so that it won’t show on his face. He doubts that fools Sasuke (because he understands Sasuke more than anyone else in the world, but it’s the same way for Sasuke), but he does it anyway so that he won’t risk breaking the relationship they’ve only just repaired.

Sasuke, to his credit, hasn’t avoided his gaze. The look of expectancy in his eyes, like he’s anticipating _censure_ or _rejection,_ really, _really_ makes Naruto want to punch him in the face. Because how little did Sasuke think of him? And how could he be so selfish? Did the past half a year mean nothing?

Just—

“—Why?” he bites out eventually.

Sasuke is giving him what must be a patented non-expression of surprise. Then he looks away, and Naruto presses his fist so hard against the tabletop that it cracks, because the bastard is about to _lie to him_.

“I have unfinished business that I need to take care of,” Sasuke says. His tone is cautious, measured, and just the least bit apologetic. “I don’t know how long this will take or when I’ll be back.”

Which, okay, isn’t exactly lying, but the vagueness of it is giving Naruto hives, and he’s still livid.

Sasuke is looking at him again. It’s the most open look Naruto’s seen on him since his return, but the only thing he can think of is _Why now?_

“I _will_ come back after I’m done.”

There’s a soft, desperate entreaty in his voice for Naruto to believe him, which is the only reason why Naruto forces himself not to rise from the table and stalk away from all of this. He’d spent years - _years_ \- of his life chasing after the other boy, and he was going away again.

There’s a long, tense moment of silence.

Then Naruto crosses his arms on the table and buries himself face-first against his mesh-covered arms.

“Why,” he says plaintively to the table, “do you always need to run off to find yourself?”

There is something that sounds suspiciously like an astonished, choked-off laugh from Sasuke, but Naruto’s feeling too upset to take any victory in it.

He sighs heavily as he feels fingers carding through his hair, which is amazing because Sasuke hasn’t touched him for anything but sparring in _six months_. But Sasuke is being a gigantic jackass and no amount of head ruffling is going to alleviate that for a long, long time. Naruto is _pissed_.

“I don’t need to find myself anymore,” Sasuke corrects after a few minutes. “I’m just tying up loose ends before coming home for good.”

“I’m so angry with you,” Naruto says in response to that.

“I know.”

“I wish I could punch you without Sakura-chan killing us.”

“I know, dobe.”

“We’ve _spoken_ about that.”

“I know.” He sounds smug.

“You’re _such_ an _asshole_ ,” Naruto accuses. “Where are you going?”

There’s a weighted pause before the next, “I know. I can’t tell you or anyone else.” Which Naruto has already expected, but it still irritates the hell out of him. Then Sasuke says, “Try not to destroy the house while I’m gone.”

At this, he has to look up. “You’re letting me stay?”

Sasuke is the closest to exasperated he has come to in forever. It’s a good look on him.

“Your chakra and blood are keyed into this place. This means the wards think you’re family and will allow you into the compound unless I forcibly extract your informa— _How_ are you so dumb? _Usuratonkachi_.”

Naruto hasn’t been called that in years, and it’s as close to an endearment as Sasuke has for him. It makes him grin big and wide despite everything— despite the sullen, unbidden feeling of betrayal in his gut and the reality of Sasuke leaving once again. The other boy is rolling his eyes, but there’s no heat in the gesture.

“So, wait.” He holds up a hand. “Your house thinks I’m family.” Sasuke gives him a terse nod. Naruto continues, delight in his voice, and tries to keep the insidiousness from his face. “Does that mean it thinks you _married_ me? Because I sure as hell don’t have any Uchiha blood.”

The look on Sasuke’s face is absolutely priceless.

Naruto is going to hold this over his head for as long as he lives.

“Oh, my god!” he crows in glee. “You did! You totally did and we didn’t even make a night out of it! I am _so disappointed_ in you. And now you’re leaving me and this house for some hussy that you can’t tell me about. You _cad_.”

Sasuke makes a blind grab for him with a sound of outrage, but he dances out of reach, cackling.

“You owe me a ring, you bastard. Make sure you get one before you come back. This is a once in a lifetime thing, don’t be a dick about it.”

“Just— Just shut. _Up,_ ” Sasuke says in a strangled voice.

“Nope,” Naruto singsongs as he scrambles for the door. “I am _never_ letting this go. I can’t believe we’re married and _you didn’t even propose._ I’m going to tell Sakura-chan how she missed out being our Maid of Honour. Then I’m going to tell her that you’re leaving. And _then_ I’m going to let her kill you herself.”

He catches the Sasuke’s frozen expression of muted dismay before sliding the front door shut in his friend’s face and taking off with his sandals in one hand. He’s fast, but Sasuke is faster when he’s got something to lose. Although, in retrospect, he hopes that Sakura is in a listening mood.

Like her master, she’s never really taken kindly to the bearers of bad news.

-

To the western border of Fire Country lies Rain Country.

In a land where a light drizzle is considered good weather, and torrential downpour is normal, clear skies are an ill omen. Their Lady Angel had fallen in battle on a day when their perpetual rain had ceased for a scant hour. When they could no longer find their God, their unifying constant, Amegakure had degenerated into chaos. Akatsuki was no longer in control in Ame. Ame which had no leader, no protection, no direction, and were too small, too divided to stand against any external threat.

A few months later, rumours had surfaced, brought into Ame by near incredulous informants, mercenaries, and spies.

 _The Five Great Nations have formed an alliance,_ they had said.

 _The Samurai from the north have offered their swords to the Alliance_ , the whispers had continued.

Then later, when news of the war was all that anyone talked about anymore— _it’s Ame’s Akatsuki that’s on the other side. They’re fighting Akatsuki. The Alliance was created because of them._

And there had been widespread terror that Ame would be implicated in a war not of its own making. Those who had been hoping against all odds for Pein’s return denounced their religion and promptly scattered. Almost every citizen of Ame was - _is still_ \- a fugitive or refugee from some war, and they had no desire to be embroiled in another conflict during their lifetime.

Overnight, hideouts were emptied, houses vacated, tenuous alliances rescinded, and Amegakure had _fallen_.

It didn’t matter that they were one of the most technologically advanced shinobi villages across the continent, or that their architecture and information network were a cut above the best. Its history of civil unrest and isolationist policies left them to the ruin of rival ragtag shinobi gangs in the wake of Akatsuki’s defeat in the war. Everyone was trying to forget the stain that Akatsuki had made on their small nation, how they were all going to be drenched in the organisation’s rain of blood when retribution came from the allied nations.

Nobody remembered that Konan, their Lady Angel, had pledged them to Konohagakure. No one knew of the name _Uzumaki Naruto_ , the hero of the Fourth Shinobi World War, in any capacity but abject fear.

Much less did anyone look twice at a group that entered Amegakure two short weeks after the war, so they had no idea that resolution had come knocking on their battered doors.

“Well, well,” a gravelly voice had said, emerging from within the folds of a sodden cloak. “This place is a mess.” There had been a hum in the silence that followed, broken only by the sound of the accompanying drizzle. Then the speaker had expelled a delicate sigh in annoyance. “I’ve always detested this country’s infernal weather.”

“It’s certainly nothing like Fire Country,” one of his companions had agreed. “We should find shelter, then perhaps establish some sort of base.” He had glanced over to the rest of their company, and the slightest figure huddled between two others had jerked her head abrasively in agreement.

“Street to the right, down two districts. No chakra signatures there.”

“Excellent,” the first speaker had said then, already beginning to move. Even in the constant rain, his steps had been silent, and didn’t disturb the flow of water as it rushed into the surrounding canals. “Come. We have much to do.”


	3. Departure

Sasuke encounters Sakura alone a month after their return to Konoha.

It would have taken a dead man to not notice that she had grown into a magnificent woman in the time that he had been away. Sakura wasn’t beautiful in the way that Hyuuga Hinata was, nor did she possess the vivacity and allure of kunoichi like Ino and Karin. However, in exchange, she now had a magnetic presence and confidence that she wielded as expertly as her chakra.

The woman whom he has just allowed beyond his wards and into his home is not a girl anymore. Her face is gaunt from overwork and her eyes are flinty, but she moves with the same self-assured grace that their Godaime does. It is an impressive non-display of strength and Sasuke finds himself thinking distantly that she’s lovely like this.

She says nothing as she falls in step beside him – no longer behind, she and Naruto have long since caught up to him, _surpassed_ him in ways he never understood – and only when she’s within his house does she murmur the customary, polite, “Sorry for the intrusion.”

Sasuke goes through the motions of making tea and setting the cups on the low table in the room for receiving guests, then he sits and waits. Sakura hasn’t paid them a social visit since Naruto moved in several weeks ago, so this is likely business. He is proven right when she kneels next to him and lifts a hand wrapped in green chakra.

“Routine check-up for your eyes, Sasuke.”

He nods and closes his eyes while noting the lack of an honorific with faint interest. He likes the sound of it better. The same way he likes the way she no longer lilts her voice into a higher register, something he found never quite suited her.

She pulls away shortly, a frown creasing her brows. She gestures for him to roll his left sleeve up next, then places her hand on the stump with another hum of medical ninjutsu. The touch is not light exactly, but it’s impersonal and Sakura’s eyes are equally reserved. Sasuke is thrown by the rush of longing he has for the warmth of her grip that she had gifted him with on their first day back.  

“You asked the other day what I was apologising for,” he says into the silence and holds her gaze when she flicks her eyes up to meet his. “I said that it was ‘for everything’. I’ve thought about it, and I think it wasn’t an accurate answer.”

“Wasn’t it, now?” she says lightly, lifting her hand and settling back to rest her weight on her knees. Her gaze is not hard or angry like he expects it to be. Instead, it’s searching and expectant. She’s waiting, and he’s kept her waiting for a very long time. Her and everyone else.

“I’m not sorry for everything,” he admits, choosing his next words very carefully. “I don’t think I would have been satisfied uncovering the secrets to my clan in any other way. I found resolution for things I didn’t even know I needed to resolve.” He looks away from her now, because it’s one thing to recognise what he’s saying when he’s turning the thoughts over in his head, but quite another to confess it to someone else. “I learnt many things too. I wouldn’t have known the strength of Naruto’s conviction or felt like I wanted to return home if we’d never had that final fight.”

Sasuke thinks this is the most sincere he’s been since the whole disaster with Itachi and his clan. He thinks he understands that it’s because he’s finally realised that, somewhere along the line he’d lost his original family, but been fortunate enough to gain a surrogate one in its place. He’d very nearly lost this one too, only this time he had the chance to fix it.

“I’m sorry that everyone had to go through what they did because of my choices. None of you should have had to do so. That’s what I want to apologise for.”

He lets out a silent breath after that and clenches his jaw. Vaguely, he wonders at Naruto’s ability to always talk about feelings. It’s exhausting. He looks up warily at Sakura to find her studying him, a depth to her green eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s a look that makes him feel tense with something like nervousness coiling in his gut.

Then her entire countenance softens.

“Your eyes are a strained from the Sharingan and Rinnegan,” she says. Sasuke blinks once, quells the sliver of indignance that surfaces at her dismissal, before nodding. “Your chakra reserves are normal and maintaining your bloodline limit for now, but you should avoid using them for techniques unless absolutely necessary. You’re only seventeen. Extensive use will make you blind before your mid-thirties.” Sakura brushes the tips of her fingers against the stump of his arm. “No changes with this. Chakra pathways are destroyed to about an inch away from the shoulder socket, but we should be able to reconstruct it once shishou figures something out using Hashirama-sama’s cells.”

An awkward pause. Then, “Thank you for your apology, Sasuke. I’d like to reserve forgiveness for the moment, but consider it heard.” Despite the clipped words, her expression is less aloof as she unfolds herself from her sitting position, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Shall we head out for lunch?”  

The prospect of venturing out is an attractive one. The house is too quiet without Naruto systematically destroying some momento or other from the time when his family had occupied the house. It’s tragically entertaining when the blond does a combination of moping and apologising while he accuses Sasuke of deliberately placing whatever he’s broken in his way in the first place.

“I’m under house arrest,” Sasuke says.

Sakura rolls her eyes and draws a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

“With all due respect, our revered Council doesn’t always know better. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Kakashi-sensei has diverted all the ANBU assigned to you for more pressing tasks. _I’ll_ be your guard, and I say we’re going for lunch. Any funny business and I _will_ kill you. _Painfully_.” She punctuates this by shoving him towards the interior of the house. He has to shift his weight quickly to avoid tripping. “Change, Sasuke. I won’t be seen outside with you in your sleeping things.”

“Well, _that’s_ different.” Sasuke keeps his voice just below a drawl and maintains a deadpan expression as he heads off to do as she’s ordered. When Sakura throws him a questioning glance, he ducks into the safety of the room before saying, “I could have sworn that was all you wanted to see me in when we were children.”

Sakura growls, an alarming sound that reverberates down the hallway.

“I have chakra that can _separate you from your spleen_ , Sasuke _-kun_.”

Yes, he thinks as he shrugs out of his yukata, he definitely prefers his name without the honorific.

-

In the end, it is Shikamaru whom Naruto meets most often at the Konoha cemetery.

Naruto smells a hint of tobacco in the morning breeze and half-turns his head, his mouth twisted into the smallest of smiles.

“You’re early today,” Shikamaru comments when they’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of Neji’s grave. Naruto shrugs in response, content to lean into the other boy, just a touch in greeting, before pulling away.

Shikamaru snorts softly, crouches down, and drags three fingers across the inscription of Neji’s name. “Hey,” he says, drawing a package from his side that Naruto knows is from Ino. He watches, curious, as Shikamaru arranges a bundle of green somethings that are definitely not flowers into the stone holders.

“Rosemary for remembrance, thyme for courage and strength,” Shikamaru explains without him having to ask. “Ino said you didn’t look like the sort that should be placing flowers on graves. Their language is too delicate for you.” Naruto thinks that it’s just like Ino to be backhandedly considerate. She’s right, of course— he appreciates the thought.

Shikamaru huffs a low laugh as he stands and turns to look at Naruto, then does a subtle double-take. “All right. What the hell happened to your eye?”

“I’m surrounded by brooding, violent geniuses,” Naruto replies darkly.

“You’re fighting with Sasuke?” Shikamaru muses. “Is that allowed?”

“Oh, he’s one too,” Naruto mutters, “but this one’s from Sakura-chan. Even if it’s still that asshole’s fault.”

Shikamaru cringes around his cigarette. “Sounds troublesome. Tell me over breakfast. I’m going to say hi to the old man and Asuma-sensei.”

Naruto hums in assent, then watches as Shikamaru navigates the cemetery’s maze of gravestones with ease, flowers tucked under his arm, carefully arranged and still with dew on them. This had long since become a routine for Shikamaru. After all, the war had taken many of his loved ones with it, leaving empty graves in its place.

Naruto glances down, brushing a forefinger against the herbs in the regulation holders.

He had badly wanted to bring Neji home, but hadn’t even been able to locate his friend’s body when the fighting had ended. He had scoured the entire battle ground, desperate and frantic, for the two days that the corpses were being gathered. In the end, Sasuke had wordlessly dragged and carried him back to the medical tents so that they wouldn’t miss the cremation ceremony.

In front of all the remaining Hyuuga clan members, Hinata had struck him across the face _– again –_ when he’d tried to apologise for Neji. With furious, helpless tears, she had told him he had nothing to be sorry for. Then she had proceeded to thoroughly mortify him by performing a traditional obeisance declaring her gratitude for Naruto’s war efforts on behalf of her clan. It had been mirrored by the rest of the Hyuuga, Hiashi included. Naruto had nearly died from embarrassment.

“Do what I do,” Sasuke had instructed, halting Naruto’s protests and implorations for them to rise. He had dragged Naruto’s palm up between them, said “tori seal, but hold it rigid, all fingers up”, and braced his own fist against it with the thumb and last finger out. When he had bowed to the Hyuuga, Naruto had struggled to maintain the same posture. To his relief, they rose shortly after and dispersed, Hinata caressing his cheek with a tight smile before turning on her heel.

In response to Naruto’s dumbfoundedness, Sasuke had said, “Konoha’s noble clans don’t bow their heads to just anyone. That was the proper etiquette for accepting their humility.”

Sometimes, Naruto forgot that Sasuke was shinobi royalty.

“You’re such a princess,” he’d said wonderingly and gotten an impressive side-eye glare for it.

A few days after their return to Konoha, Naruto had slipped out of the Uchiha estate before dawn, gravitating towards the cemetery where the ashes had been settled just a day prior.

He had been surprised to find someone already in front of Neji’s grave.

“We were friends,” Shikamaru had explained later over breakfast. “Hm, perhaps accurately, we were more than friends. It was on and off after missions.” He huffs a laugh, bittersweet-sounding. “We never got to decide whether we would take it further, but he was a good shougi partner. Amongst other things.”

Naruto had been frozen for all of three seconds, then he’d scrunched his nose and continued shovelling food in his gob.

“Neji, huh?” he asked in-between mouthfuls. “You only date the smart ones, Shikamaru? Don’t go for Sakura-chan. She’s super smart, but you’ll die.”

“I said _amongst other things_. I didn’t just like his brains.” To which Naruto squawks and chokes, because Neji was good-looking – _all_ of the Hyuuga are, it’s _ridiculous_ – but Shikamaru is like a brother to him. “And thanks for the warning, but I don’t actually have a death wish. Sakura is safe.”

At present, Shikamaru is nursing his tea like he’s fifty-years-old and looking bemused after Naruto has recounted the tragic events that led up to facial bruising. He recoils slightly when Naruto orders his third bowl of ramen.

“Troublesome,” he says under his breath, but Naruto catches it anyway.

“Hey, whatever,” he retorts, loyal despite his blackened eye. “Sakura-chan is just very expressive when she’s angry, and Sasuke is— err. He’s a lost soul. A lost, inconsiderate, jackass of a soul who kind of understands feelings now. I think. But kind of just— just— _Ugh_. I don’t know. Steps all over them, _apologises_ – the nerve of him – then _leaves anyway_.” Naruto digs viciously into his new bowl of noodles. “Why is he _always leaving_? I’m glad Sakura-chan broke his face. Into bits. Took her hours to patch him up. Ha! I bet he’ll have to drink miso through a straw for the next few days.”

Shikamaru is looking vaguely nauseated. Naruto rolls his eyes. Some of his friends have no guts when it comes to listening about the special dynamics of Team Seven. Although, to be fair, Sai and Yamato-taichou had taken a while to ease into it too even though they were part of the team now.

“Hey, hey, why do you think he wants to leave? I can’t figure it out and he won’t tell me.” Naruto is consulting Gama-chan to see if he can afford another round, but it doesn’t look likely, so he grumbles and clutches his tea instead. “You’re the genius. Help me figure this out.”

Shikamaru’s left eye twitches in annoyance. “That really depends on the information you can give me. I haven’t seen Sasuke in months.”

Well, that’s easy enough.

“He’s been shady and working with his weapons a lot. Oh, and keeping to himself more than usual too. I think he henges himself to head out to get god-knows-what. It’s not like we’re having more stuff for dinner, so it’s probably not grocery shopping.”

“That doesn’t sound different from how he usually is,” Shikamaru says, exasperation creeping into his voice. “I can draw conjectures, but it’ll be a long shot based off intelligence reports that Konoha’s been receiving.”

Naruto shrugs, motioning for him to continue.

“Konoha is recovering, just like the rest of the Alliance,” Shikamaru says, resting his cheek on a propped up fist. “The Alliance is great for us because we’re part of it, but there are political repercussions now that the war is over. Smaller hidden villages are restless, particularly those that are interlocked by the Countries of Fire, Wind, and Earth. Together, we’d easily overpower all these countries, and they know that. There are also more problems associated with the Alliance in peacetimes.”

Naruto is following all this with a little difficulty, and it must show on his face, because Shikamaru sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Naruto, do you know how the village earns money?”

“Through missions, right?”

“Primarily, yes. Have you ever thought about the kinds of missions that we’re sent to do?”

“Err—” This gives Naruto pause. Strictly speaking, he’s officially still a genin and won’t be promoted until the next Chuunin Exams because rules are stupid that way. He’s been on missions above his rank, but it had mostly been because of the situations that being a jinchuuriki had put him in. He thinks carefully about what he’s heard from conversations around him and stories that Jiraiya used to tell. “Escort, delivery, recon, espionage… There’s the stupid stuff like D-ranks. Unclassified stuff like S-ranks and… assassination? The ANBU are a tactical assasination squad, aren’t they?”

Shikamaru looks mildly impressed.

“Very good,” he says. “That’s most of them. Who do you think we do those missions for? _Where_ do you think we used to do those missions in?”

“In other countries, of cour— _Oh_.” He blinks in realisation, eyes wide. “Shikamaru. When was the last time we took a mission against Suna?”

“Not since you cracked Gaara’s head open during the Chuunin Exams. And you guessed right—that’s the problem. Having so many allies interferes with the kinds of missions we can accept from clients. We didn’t have to worry about that during the war, but sustainability is going to be a problem once everyone’s military forces are back to their usual strength.”

“Does that mean Allied Forces shinobi are only accepting missions to non-allied countries?”

Shikamaru grimaces. “It seems that way, but there are too many missions and shinobi to keep track of. Who knows what slips past us? That’s another problem too. The last summit took place during wartime. It’s different now. Treaties need to be renegotiated and a solution has to be found for missions that take place in allied countries or suspicion and mutual doubt can easily break those relations. It’ll be like the alliance never existed without a common enemy.”

He curses softly, scratching the back of his head while Naruto takes in the magnitude of ramifications he’s never even considered before. Peace and friendship like the one he’s had for years with Gaara had seemed like the ultimate end goal of the Alliance. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as he sees now how many ways that can go wrong with so many parties involved.

“It’s not a long term solution for us to avoid each other and only go hunting in smaller countries. There are only so many missions we can take there before we bleed them dry and wipe them out completely. There’s also the need to consider that some of these countries have never given any of us a reason to think of them as hostile.” Shikamaru drops the amount necessary for their breakfast on the counter and exits Ichiraku. He waves Gama-chan aside when Naruto tries to upend its contents into Shikamaru’s pouch. “My treat, for being able to follow the conversation so far. We’ll make a Hokage out of you yet. You can get breakfast next time.”

Naruto mumbles something rude in response, half-flattered and half-insulted.

“What’s this got to do with Sasuke anyway?”

“Overtly? Nothing. I told you I can guess, but you didn’t exactly give me much to go off on.”

“I _told_ you—”

“You don’t actually know what he got up to during the years he was away, Naruto. None of us do.” Naruto can only respond to this with bitter silence, because it’s true. Getting Sasuke to talk about his past isn’t something he’s been able to broach. He doesn’t have the finesse and they’re both short-tempered. So many things could go wrong and they’d probably lose more limbs. “I’m guessing he’s got loose ends to tie up, or old acquaintances to take care of based on some kind of intel he probably gets from outside of Konoha. There’s no other reason he’ll uproot himself again so soon after going through the trouble of settling down.”

“Funny,” Naruto says. “That’s what he said too.”

Shikamaru looks at him sharply. “That he’s got external intel?”

“Huh? What—no! Err, actually, I don’t know if he does,” he admits. “That is, um, I’ve never seen it. I meant he said that he had unfinished business.” Then more quietly, “He promised to come back after he was done. Didn’t say when that was though, asshole.”

Shikamaru’s face is blank for a few moments of uncomfortably thoughtful silence as they head towards the Hokage Tower. As they pass the hospital, he snorts and says, “What’s the problem then? He’ll be coming home to you when he’s done.”

“That’s not the point!”

“You’re an idiot,” Shikamaru says, expression long-suffering. “Be grateful that I’m going to be your advisor when you’re Hokage. You’re going to need it.”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Naruto splutters. Then he brightens, catching Shikamaru’s elbow and shaking it. “I forgot to mention. Do you know that Sasuke and I are totally married? He made the wards at home think I’m family. If that isn’t marriage, I don’t know what is. You need to tell me my rights in case he goes out there, gets himself killed, and I become a widow. I’m too young to be permanently single for the rest of my promising life.”

Shikamaru stares at him for a long moment, then closes his eyes in defeat.

“Oh, my god. You _really_ are an idiot.”

“Hey!” Naruto cries. “What’s that supposed to mean _?_ And will you guys stop saying that! I have feelings, you know.”

“Too much,” Shikamaru agrees blandly.

“ _Hey!_ ”

-

The Kazekage is having a tea break with his siblings when something does the equivalent of a polite knock against the edge of his awareness.

“Enter,” he says, setting his cup down.

He quirks a smile when Temari stiffens imperceptibly and Kankuro flicks his eyes across the room— the wrong side of the room. Jackal, his best ANBU operative, appears in a crouch before him, a respectful distance away. Gaara is impressed to note that the air is barely disturbed by his entrance.

“Report,” he says in the same even tone.

Jackal doesn’t hesitate even though Temari and Kankuro are still there, true testament to his veteran status. He obeys orders as they are given and Gaara can appreciate the no-nonsense approach.

“Jackal, reporting. It’s as you suspected, Kazekage-sama. Someone has taken over the organisation and restructuring of Amegakure. Operation protocols are back in place though there’s been no word on who’s leading the village. Security is tight, but less hostile than it was during Hanzo’s time. They’ve started taking missions again recently. A group of chuunin was spotted departing towards Grass Country a week ago. Further instructions?”

Gaara considers this for a moment.

“Continue surveillance until instructed otherwise. Under no circumstances are you to compromise your identities or origins. Send a runner every fortnight. I will inform the Hokage about the developments. Dismissed.”

The ANBU voices an affirmative, then disappears as swiftly as he had come.

Kankuro lets out a low whistle.

“He’s good,” he says admiringly.

“The very best,” Gaara agrees, “and unquestioningly loyal.”

“Ame’s been repaired?” Temari asks calculatingly, jabbing Kankuro in reprimand for inane commentary. “When was this?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for a few months. We had a significant decrease in illegal movement across our borders. A team was sent to scout, but the reports have been inconclusive until now.”

Temari’s eyes move absently about the room, a tell that she’s deciding exactly how much Suna can be culpable for, and to what extent their involvement should be in this. Gaara has already gone over the steps they need to take, but of the two of them, Temari is the better diplomat and it will be wise to see what she has to say.

“Informing Konoha is a good idea,” she says eventually. “Ame is on their borders too, but their relations have always been more volatile. Jiraiya was murdered in Ame, and prior to that, Ame was where Konoha had to retreat in the Third War. Depending on who’s in charge now, it could affect relations between our two countries, especially given that Ame isn’t part of the Alliance.”

“I agree,” Gaara says. “I will write to the Hokage about this. Takamaru can send it, but you will deliver another message personally. I believe it’s about time that we strengthen diplomatic ties between Suna and Konoha again. It’s been slipping in the past few months because everyone’s been focused on internal recovery. We should not have left it for so long.”

Kankuro laughs, already reading into what Gaara hasn’t said.

“About damn time we saw Blondie! It’s too peaceful when he isn’t around complaining about Suna’s lack of ramen.” He throws an abysmally executed eyebrow waggle at Gaara. “Maybe you won’t brood so much once he’s been over for a little while. Make your friend stay a little longer. Call it a diplomatic exchange or whatever. Show him the Kage ropes.” Another suggestive eyebrow because the puppet master is a depraved human being.

Gaara rolls his eyes delicately, ignoring the insinuations. “I haven’t been brooding over Naruto. I’ve merely been wanting of good company—” “Hey, what the hell. We’re _great_ company.” “— Temari is the one pining.”

Temari looks affronted. “Don’t drag me into this,” she warns, tossing her head haughtily to the side. She picks up a half-eaten date from where she’d set it down when Jackal had interrupted. “Shall I go to Konoha alone?”

“It should be a delegation, since we’ll ideally receive a team from them. Take Matsuri’s team with you. I have other tasks for Kankuro.”

Temari curls her mouth in distaste, but nods.

“You’re not making me supervise D-ranks again, are you? Maybe I should just date someone from Konoha too,” Kankuro muses out loud, then winces manfully when Temari pushes her fan so that it lands on his head with a dull clunk.

“For the last time,” she says, a bite in her voice, “I’m not dating the Nara boy.”

“Ah,” Kankuro nods sagely, “but, Sis, you _want_ to date the Nara boy, and that makes all the difference— whoa, oi, easy with the fan. No jutsus in the Kazekage’s office! We agreed!”

“Oh, go ahead,” Gaara says expressionlessly to Temari, moving his teacup out of the way as Kankuro yelps in apprehension. “Once in a while is fine.”

She bares her teeth, chakra flaring as she smiles sweetly at her other brother. “You’re a _dead man_.”

-

A week after the fact, Sasuke can still feel a dull ache in the right side of his face where Sakura had fractured his cheek bones before putting them back together again. She hadn’t taken well to the news of him leaving. His one consolation was that Naruto hadn’t been able to see out his left eye for two days.

Kakashi had been blatantly, vocally unamused when he’d discussed his plans to leave.

After an hour’s long meeting where they had danced around hypotheticals, the Hokage had finally asked, deadly calm, “Does this have anything to do with that stupid hawk?”

To which Sasuke had given an honest positive, but only that. Kakashi had muttered a creative invective about avian anatomy that had made his aide drag a hand across his face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he had said at last.

Both Kakashi and Sakura are at the gates to see him off, but Naruto is nowhere in sight. It’s nothing he hasn’t expected. The house was empty when he woke up in the morning, and he wonders if the idiot will actually stay there once he’s left the village. The Uchiha compound is isolated as it is, and will be unbearably quiet for just one person.  

He adjusts his cloak discreetly as he approaches the gate. He has packed to travel light, but with an arsenal of weaponry to compensate for his arm.

Sakura eyes his pouch and sighs.

“Your arm is almost ready, you know. You could wait a little longer before going off.”

Sasuke shakes his head, but he makes an effort not to be curt in his answer to her. Sakura deserves better, especially after she’d started treating him like a brother instead of a love interest. There are downsides to that, like her petrifying version of hovering, but it is a vast improvement from the simpering of their younger days.

“I just need to see how things are for myself beyond Konoha. Half a year was enough time to reflect, but I have to see to some things now while my mind is still clear.”

Sakura’s eyes are vibrant and fierce as she asks, “And if I said to take me with you?”

There isn’t a hint of blind adoration in her gaze, only deep platonic affection and worry. Sasuke wonders if this is how Itachi used to feel whenever he’d tried to tag along on his missions. Even as a child, he had understood how dangerous missions were. The knowledge that Itachi might not return had pushed him to try and follow his brother on numerous occasions.

He’s moving before he can register what he’s doing. Sakura looks as startled as he feels when his fingers connect with her forehead.  

“Maybe next time,” he says, remembering Itachi as he was a lifetime ago. “Thank you. For everything.”

Sakura glows. “You’re welcome. Don’t you dare die out there, you hear? I’ll hunt you down in the afterlife. And before I forget—” she digs around in the pouch resting against the small of her back. “— here, take this. It’s a medi-pack I put together. Watch the soldier pills. It’s a new prototype by the Akimichi, potent stuff, so no more than two every eight hours.” She throws the pack at him, peers into his face, and then gives him a rough hug before pulling away. “Be safe.”

“And for the love of Fire Country,” Kakashi interrupts off to the side, “ _write_ to Naruto, if not to us, when you can.” He pushes away from where he’s leaning against the gate. “I’ll spare you the lecture about not blowing things up because you never listen anyway. But seriously, at least make sure they can’t tell it’s you. My ass is on the line for this one.”

“Kakashi,” Sasuke acknowledges. The man looks like he’s been run ragged into the ground and has wilfully abandoned his Hokage robes for standard jounin attire. “I know, sorry. I’ll try, but no promises.”

“You’re such a brat,” Kakashi says evenly, then settles a gloved hand on Sasuke’s shoulder and squeezes just once. “All right, get out of here before I make you stay to be my errand boy.”

Sasuke doesn’t need to be told twice. He looks at Konoha one last time, then walks out the gates without looking back. He knows that Kakashi and Sakura will stand at the gates until they can’t see him anymore. To conserve chakra, he keeps to the road instead of taking to the trees.

It’s fifteen minutes before he spots a familiar blond head of hair sticking out against the green wash of Fire Country’s dense forests.

“You’re going to have to get your own clothes at some point,” he says by way of greeting.

Naruto shrugs in the oversized nightshirt that he’s pilfered from Sasuke’s closet. It’s so big that the collar brushes against his cheeks. His face is placid and looks washed out in the morning light, but his eyes are alert and just a touch on the side of accusatory.

Sasuke’s gaze strays to the empty sleeve on Naruto’s right. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Naruto hums noncommittally. Then he holds something up, thrusting it towards Sasuke. The edge of it catches the sunlight and glints. Sasuke’s mouth parts slightly in surprise, feeling warmth unfurl in his chest.

“You still had this?” He doesn’t move to take his old hitai-ate because the weight and years of meaning are bearing down upon him.   

Naruto studies him, then nods, a light in his eyes.

“I’m returning it now,” he says, “because I won’t need to go looking for you again. You’ll come back when you’re done being a mysterious bastard.”

And Sasuke understands that Naruto has just announced his complete and utter willingness to trust him again. Something he isn’t sure just housing the idiot for half a year has rightfully earned. So he grasps the other end of the offered hitai-ate, the exact one he’d left at Naruto’s side so many years ago, and accepts the promise Naruto wants him to make.

“Don’t burn the house down,” Sasuke says wearily instead of _thank you_ , because there are no words in the world enough to express what he owes Naruto or what he feels about the kinship he’s been undeservingly given.    

“What is _wrong_ with everyone?” Naruto rages, wrinkling his nose comically. “I _can_ actually take care of myself! I lived alone for many years and _survived_ , I’ll have you know.”

Which will never happen again for as long as Sasuke can help it when he returns. Presently, he just smirks and watches Naruto flail at him for it.

“I’m going,” he says after a moment, the standard expression feeling rusty on his tongue. The surge of discomfort that shoots through him is unexpected but extinguished almost immediately when the grin he receives is like watching the sun break through a cloudy sky.

“See you later,” Naruto replies, impossible warmth and the promise of _home_ in his blue, blue eyes.

Sasuke turns then to hide his own faint smile, hitai-ate in his hand, and walks away. He heads west towards the border.

It’s time to see what Orochimaru wants with him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who took the time to leave comments. It was very kind of you to do so and I can't say how much I appreciate it. <3 If it's not too much trouble, I would also like to humbly request that no one pay any mind to senseless bigotry in the comments. I certainly could care less about them, so I would like nothing better than for no one to provide them with more fuel for their sad, sad fire. My thanks!
> 
> To answer one of the questions posed: I'm not sure if I'll increase the rating. I might if I'm suddenly inspired to write the explicit bits. At the moment, it doesn't look to be heading in that direction, but I've surprised myself before so I'll update the rating if it comes to that. Thanks for asking. :D
> 
> This chapter was written so that I can completely and utterly warp the canonical ending in my mind to something I like better. If you didn't survive the process, apologies.


	4. Destination

Naruto’s reaction to his first mission after more than half a year is almost insulting.

“I thought you were joking about that courier mission!” he yowls, clawing at the sides of his face like a wounded beast.

Kakashi’s head hurts.

Ah, no. Actually, his entire body hurts.

He had escaped the office some time the previous night and abandoned Iruka to the remaining paperwork only to find out the next morning that Iruka had vindictively engineered one of the bookshelves full of files to collapse on him the second he set foot in his office to receive the Suna delegation — his resulting papercuts had been the thing of legend. Sakura had been massively tickled when she’d been called in to administer healing, as had their guests and, Kakashi is sure, his ANBU security detail.

Sometimes, he can’t believe he overlooked his aide’s history of pranking as a youngster. He is beginning to rethink appointing the man in an office-sharing capacity.

Kakashi sighs explosively through his nose and lobs the mission scroll with pinpoint accuracy at Naruto’s head where it strikes true and is neatly caught on the rebound by Sai. Standing off to the side, Temari is a study in cultivated nonchalance, but her eyes are bright with amusement.

“It’s a diplomatic mission to Suna, Naruto. If anything else, it’s a courier mission for Tenten, Lee, and Sai, not you. (“Are you calling me _baggage_ , Kakashi-sensei?!”) They’ll be part of your four-man cell and your guards on this mission.” Kakashi holds up a long-suffering hand to stem the tirade of protests before it can start. “I’m well aware of your abilities, Naruto, as are the rest of us, but your prosthesis is newly grafted. Tsunade-sama has already said that it will take some time for the new pathways to be conditioned to your chakra flow. As it stands, you might as well still only have one arm. Since jutsus are out of the question until you’ve made full recovery, you’ll be at a disadvantage in combat.”

An uncomfortable shift ripples through the room as the fight goes out of Naruto and he falls quiet with a thunderous look on his face. Kakashi is sorry for it, but they can’t risk Naruto being reckless when Konoha is still so vulnerable. He’s positive that the kid will handle himself fine in a fight, but who knew what dangers had escaped the war or were only just emerging? Konoha couldn’t afford to take any chances.

“You are to leave for Sunagakure,” he presses on, “effective immediately. Your guides and escorts will be Temari-san’s team. Further instructions await after you’ve met the Kazekage. He’s expecting you. Pack and head out. Dismissed.”

Naruto breaks into a wide grin.

“Gaara is? Oh, good! I’ve missed him,” he says. The open fondness in his expression is unmistakeable, as is the corresponding approval on Temari’s face. Kakashi spares a moment to wonder why the words _diplomatic mission_ and _Suna_ hadn’t intially brought the Kazekage to mind for Naruto, but finds himself hastily discontinuing that train of thought. There is an alarming number of _what ifs_ queued up right behind it questioning Naruto’s suitability as the Nanadaime candidate. Clearly, Kakashi is going to be tasked with grooming Naruto until political accumen and, hopefully, a late onset of intelligence take hold. “Well, what the hell are we waiting for then? Team Uzumaki Naruto, let’s go!”

Sai catches the back of Naruto’s jumpsuit to prevent him from careening out the window in sheer excitement. In the background, Tenten’s face contorts through several expressions before it settles on _how is this my life._ Kakashi, as Gai’s long time rival and friend, recognises that Lee is manfully fighting a Youthful Proclamation about something or other that he guesses wryly has to do with Gaara, sparring, and a potential diplomatic incident.

He watches the shinobi leave, all of them bowing as protocol dictates except for Naruto who just tosses a flippant “See ya, sensei!” over his shoulder with nary a glance.

The insolence, Kakashi thinks to himself, but he’s distantly relieved.

Ringing enthusiasm is worlds better than the storm of uncharacteristic gloom that had beset Naruto in the wake of Sasuke’s departure. It was to be expected, seeing as they had spent the past six months in emotional rehabilitation with one another, but that hadn’t made it easier for anyone to deal with. Naruto hadn’t demanded missions for a long time, spending most of his days with Sasuke, departing for short hours at a stretch to run errands. Kakashi suspects that neither of his students had realised the amount of time they had devoted to each other after Naruto had boldly insinuated himself into the Uchiha compound. They had paid fleeting attention to everyone else but the other members of Team Seven, and even then, it had been almost perfunctory. Their dynamics had always been exhausting and mystifying to contemplate.

With Sasuke gone – _again_ , and Kakashi only has to _lean_ towards the memory of the wrangling and veiled threats that took to make it happen for a migraine to build – the absence of the rest of his year mates had struck Naruto keenly when he had looked about for a distraction. Their fighting force had been so greatly diminished by the war that most of their active shinobi were barely seen about Konoha, constantly away on the field once they had recuperated. Naruto had taken to _lingering_ about the Hokage Tower and engaging in aggressive emotional bullying for missions until Tsunade had incapacitated him for two weeks by grafting on his new arm.

Relief from Naruto’s moping had come shortly in the form of the team from Suna, for which Kakashi is grateful. Sakura had been days away from dealing out grievous injury as a form of therapy for everyone who had become the blond’s emotional collateral.

There are other things to worry about now. Kakashi remembers with a frown that Takamaru had delivered a message prior to Temari’s arrival with news from the Kazekage about developments in the west. It concerned the reformation of Amegakure and implications about who now stood at the helm of its hidden village.

Amegakure’s intelligence network had been impressive at the height of its glory days, enough that the Five Great Nations were forced to practice extreme caution against information leaks and spies. Its people were conditioned to extreme paranoia, something Akatsuki’s presence had only exacerbated. Kakashi didn’t think any of the Alliance countries had spared a thought to the plight of other smaller nations since the war. Everyone had been reeling from the magnitude of loss on all fronts and been scrabbling to find their footholds again, but Amegakure was going to be a reminder that the smaller nations now had a combined military force larger than that of the Alliance.

If Amegakure has indeed been taken over by a new leader, there will be concerns as to who that is, as well as what their intentions will be towards the Alliance. This is coming at a poor time when the Alliance has only just scrapped their villages and defenses back together. Another summit will be needed before they can decide what the Alliance will stand for in times of supposed peace. His gut is telling him that the situation will only go downhill from here before they find the time to think of a solution.

Kakashi’s aide chooses that moment to interrupt his thoughts, stepping into the office and blinking as he sees the Hokage already at the desk. Kakashi returns the scrutiny with an impassive look of his own. He has never once been early whether or not he ditched work the night before, not that being the leader of a village has ever allowed for a set number of working hours. Kakashi can’t really fault Iruka’s surprise, so he attempts to look busy instead.

“Good morning, Hokage-sama,” Iruka greets with a textbook bow. He manages to do so without dropping the massive stack of files resting in the crook of his arm. He looks pleased, Kakashi notes disparagingly. And armed. “Perhaps you should always assign morning missions if it means I won’t have to send a retrieval squad just to make sure you come in to work.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kakashi counters mildly. “I like it when I make you blush in the mornings, sensei.”

“Oh, I’ve gathered,” Iruka says, sardonic but not the least bit flustered as he dumps the files on Kakashi’s desk with a flourish. The Hokage shoots them an alarmed once-over. “I suspect it's the colour of pride. I do so appreciate being given the chance to redecorate while you're away.”

Kakashi looks sourly at the remains of the bookshelf to the right of the office where the files are littered beneath in a heap.

“Suna’s representatives saw that, you know. It was quite an impressive feat of rigging. I think one of my ANBU took notes.”

“Was it? I’m glad you think so,” Iruka replies modestly. He flips open one of the files and taps the dotted line at the bottom of a page that requires a signature and seal of approval. “Did you explain that it was a gift for leaving your aide _alone and unaided_ all night to sort through your work while you _barred and sealed_ your home against all entry and _skived,_ Hokage-sama?”

“That might have slipped my mind,” Kakashi admits with a thoughtful hum. He then endeavours to evade whatever rebuke about to come by making a show of looking for his seal.

“Left-hand drawer,” Iruka growls shortly without prompting and whirls about to stomp to his own desk. Kakashi considers it a minor victory.

He revises that a split second later.

His seal isn’t in the drawer, but a bag of foul-smelling, dark-coloured liquid _something_ that explodes in his face is. It splatters all over his official robes, his mask, and in his eye before he can dodge completely. It is a display of trapping skill testament to Iruka’s rank utilised in the most infuriatingly juvenile way possible. Kakashi would have been impressed if he didn’t smell like fish market refuse. _Why_ had he employed this man again?  

“ _Iruka_.”

“ _Kakashi._ ”

“What _is_ this?” He stands very slowly, eyebrows knitting together as the remnants of the bag containing… _whatever this is_ slides down his chest and onto the floor with a squelch. It absolutely _reeks_ , which is saying something considering that he’s had to dispose of rotting corpses before in his line of work.

“Oh, nothing special,” Iruka says, unfazed. “Just squid innards and ink sacs blended with natto and fish sauce. A lot of fish sauce.”

Kakashi’s stomach turns at this, but he forces himself to remain at ease. He wipes the gunk from his eye before saying, “Inventive. But sensei, what _ever_ are we going to do about all these documents you just ruined? Have you just accidentally given me a day off?”

Iruka doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he draws a retractable pointer from his flak jacket, extends it, and uses the tip to flip open another one of the files he had brought in earlier. Kakashi looks down at its revealed contents incredulously.

“I took the liberty of creating blank ones,” Iruka purrs. “The originals are under my desk.”

Kakashi takes a few pointed seconds to absorb this, then he graciously concedes defeat.

“Well played, Iruka-sensei,” he says admiringly. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry about yesterday. How can I make it up to you?”

There is smug, vicious satisfaction written all over his aide’s face and his grudging respect for the man increases several fold.

“You could start with a shower, Hokage-sama.”

-

Hinata has been a little heartbroken since the war ended.

Many of her clansmen have passed on, as has Neji. The thought of her cousin wrenches at her every time she spars with Hanabi and she can’t help but see him in all of her family members, in their pale gazes, in their dignified mannerisms. The Hyuuga estate can comfortably accommodate upwards of a hundred clan members at any one time. The multiple empty rooms she passes on her way out remind her that many of her relations now belong to incomplete family units. The corridors are quiet, not with its usual decorum, but with subdued grief.

Hinata wants to fix many things, but cannot.

She wants the courage to say what is on her mind, but can never find it. It is difficult to when Naruto has passed her in the street multiple times since they’ve returned home, his eyes set on something faraway in the direction of the Uchiha compound. She hasn’t seen herself reflected in his eyes since the war. She doesn’t think she has been heard very much since then either, nor does she know what to expect when she believes that Naruto has already heard her declare her intentions.

She thinks that she might be a little out of love to give. She has already given most of what she has to Naruto and hasn’t received anything in reciprocation beyond the usual smile, vague with distraction, or a friendly pat on the shoulder.

She knows, of course, that she’s broken through the anonymity of his acquaintances and safely made it into his inner circle of friends, the same one that Kiba and Shikamaru are a part of. She doesn’t think it’s selfish or presumptuous of her to want more, but beyond that circle is the one reserved only for people that Naruto truly loves like Sakura, Kakashi, Iruka, and Sai.

Then, in a whole other vacuum, at the centre of Naruto’s universe, there is Sasuke.

The Uchiha is someone Hinata avoids thinking about often. He makes a well of rage she never knew she possessed simmer to the surface and bubble over with ugly, violent emotions. She tries and fails not to read too much into why she’s never experienced the same thing with Sakura, someone Naruto has openly voiced attraction to. She thinks it’s not hard to recognise that Naruto’s fondness of Sakura is innocent, a lot like Lee’s infatuation. Whereas his attachment to Sasuke is dark, obsessive, consuming, and it scares Hinata despite her desire to protect Naruto from it. It is a bond that has made Naruto throw himself headlong into adulthood, given him a hole in his chest, broken his heart over and over again, gotten him beaten up by those seeking revenge, had him bowing to Kages, and lost him an arm.

She’s far from being blind, so she can recognise selfless love when she sees it. Though, for all their entanglements with one another, all their twisted kinship, she cannot see Sasuke and Naruto as brothers.

It is not a thread of thought she contemplates too thoroughly, because there are certain things she knows she’s better off not acknowledging yet. Not until she’s stronger, and only if she’s ready to move on.    

Hinata passes the Yamanaka flower shop on her way to the hospital and is briefly cheered into a small smile when she sees the shop front awash with daffodils and the smell of lilies. Beyond the bouquets of roses and carnations leaning out through one of the windows, Ino waves her in.

“Good morning, Ino,” Hinata says as she approaches the counter. “You look well.”

And she does. Ino is looking better these days since the shop reopened for business a few weeks ago. It had taken a while, the reasons for which Hinata can guess at and is saddened by, but the other girl is better now. Hinata can take encouragement in that.

“Flatterer,” Ino teases with an easy smile, then reaches over to tuck a sprig of baby’s-breath behind her ear. “To match your eyes. So! Are you on your way to the gate?”

Hinata blinks in confusion at this, something that Ino notices and her mouth opens in a small expression of surprise.   

“Oh.” Ino’s gaze is assessing and a little apologetic. “I guess you haven’t heard then. I only know because Shikamaru just dropped by from the tower.”

With a familiar sinking feeling, Hinata says, “I see,” keeping her voice calm. “What did you hear?”

Ino looks reluctant to answer, but does so anyway after a moment’s pause.

“Naruto’s leaving for a longterm mission to Suna, probably within the hour. Shikamaru didn’t have the details, so I’m not sure when he’ll be back. I just thought you might have known and that you were going to see him off.” She fidgets, loss for words, then says in a rush, “I’m sorry I presumed, Hinata. It was… insensitive of me. I’m sure Naruto must have had something on his mind. He would’ve told you otherwise.”

Hinata smiles wanly at the Yamanaka’s distress and uses gentle hands to catch her flailing hands and squeezes reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” she says to Ino who shoots her a doubtful, worried glance. “ _I’m_ okay.”

Ino bites her lip. She looks ready to confront Naruto with a pair of gardening shears. Hinata’s feelings have long graduated from being a crush, and unlike Naruto, their year mates are clearly a lot more discerning of this. She finds a bit of love left to give to a friend so protective of her interests. It surprises her because they’ve never really been close the same way she knows Ino and Sakura are.

“So you’re not going?” Ino asks when the silence between them has stretched.

Hinata studies the grain of the wood on the counter and counts the curls and spirals as she deliberates. She reaches twenty-eight before she comes a decision and looks up at her friend.

“No,” she says with quiet certainty. “But it would be nice if you could help me pick out some flowers for Kou. He’ll be discharged tomorrow and I want to bring him something.”

There is wistful understanding in Ino’s eyes.

“Of course.” She slides around the counter to where the roses are lined up in an array of pastels. After a minute of deliberation, she gathers a bunch of five, one of which is in full bloom, pink-tipped petals spreading from the centre whorl. It’s a short moment’s work of precise wrapping before Hinata is handed the small bouquet.

“Thank you, they’re lovely,” she says as she strokes one of the petals. “What are they?”

“Tea roses,” Ino replies, but does not elaborate. She doesn’t take the money that Hinata offers her either. “On the house. That bodyguard of yours is family, isn’t he? Just do me a favour and give Kou regards from the Yamanaka clan.”

Hinata makes a note to send someone in the near future to buy out at least half the store, but gracefully makes an exit after another word of thanks. She’s about to head down the street when something gives her pause. She twists around and finds Ino still standing by the shop front, watching her go.

“What do they mean?” Hinata calls back, hefting the bundle in her hands slightly.

Ino is wearing a peculiarly melancholic expression that Hinata would never have associated to her before.

“To bid love farewell. _You will forever hold a special place in my heart_.”

Hinata sucks in a shallow breath and lets it out with a soft _Oh_. She inclines her head weakly and heads _(flees)_ towards the hospital in a daze.

When she enters Kou’s room, he looks up and, within a glance – sometimes she hates the perception of Hyuuga eyes— his features arrange themselves from quiet pleasure at her presence into practiced neutrality. She sees Neji in the pale luminescence of Kou’s eyes, in the thick, silky darkness of his hair, in the strength of his hands as he reaches out to take her limp fingers, and in the reverent way he breathes, “ _Hinata-sama_.”

But he isn’t Neji, and he isn’t Naruto. His forehead is bereft of the seal that disappeared when Neji had passed, and the spikes of his hair are Hyuuga dark, not blond.

Hinata thinks that Kou can probably read the heartbreak on her face.

So she takes comfort in pushing the small bouquet of flowers against his chest. Then, suspending all notions of propriety, she collapses against him, burying her face against the petals and inhaling their faint scent intermingled with the sterile smell of his hospital robe. Kou freezes, going rigid with shock against her. A few seconds later, she feels him heave a small sigh before arranging them until she’s comfortably leaning into him, braced against an arm. His other hand is threaded loosely in her hair. If he feels the slight dampening of the front of his robe, he makes no mention of it as he brushes his fingers soothingly against her scalp.

It’s nice to be indulged, Hinata thinks vaguely. She has kept her emotions under lock and key since Neji’s funeral. She is saddened by many little things that she has had to keep stifled. As the Hyuuga clan’s heiress, her family and friends need her to be strong. Here, in the stillness of the hospital with one of her most loyal companions, she can allow herself respite. It is both wretched and liberating to be able to cry and be bitter about how picking up the pieces after the war doesn’t seem to be any less difficult than the fighting had been.

Hinata loses track of time like this, but when she next comes to, it is past midday. The first thought that crosses her mind is that Naruto is probably gone by now. The second gives her a start when she realises with horrified embarrassment that she had fallen asleep on her bodyguard. Not that Kou is looking anything but thinly amused.

“Kou!” she squeaks, trying to pull away and cover her face at the same time but not quite managing to accomplish either. “I… I— F-forgive me, I wasn’t thinking! Y-You should be resting and I barged in and— and the f-f-flowers—“

Kou’s laugh is low and rich and warm. It is incredibly mortifying, so Hinata forgoes moving to properly cover her face with both hands, feeling it burn against her palms.

“I haven’t heard you speak that way in a long time, Hinata-sama,” he says eventually, gently pulling her hands away from her face. His eyes are slightly narrowed as he studies her briefly. “Are you all right?”

Hinata can’t answer that yet and can’t quite meet his gaze, so she settles for eyeing the crushed petals littering his robe and the sheets about them. He must read something in her countenance, because he releases her wrists and motions to the small table at the side where a single stalk has been set aside.

“I managed to rescue one,” Kou says with a soft snort. “I’m afraid the rest are beyond saving, but thank you, Hinata-sama. You didn’t need to.” He nudges her, then holds her steady as she slides off the bed. She’s still in the throes of crippling indignity, so she accepts the help without resistance. “Are you hurt?” he inquires evenly when she’s on her feet.

Hinata doesn’t need to look at him to know that he is making plans to hunt down the one responsible for her misery so that he can decimate their tenketsu in her honour. In fact, Kou probably already has a very good idea where to start with his hit list seeing as he’d always been tasked with trailing her. She considers her answer very carefully before replying.

“Yes, I am,” she admits. She flicks her eyes up to his for the barest second, then looks away when she sees assurance and unwavering devotion mirrored back at her. “But I’ll be okay.”

She glances out the window with a shy smile, suddenly infinitely less unsettled as she resolves to speak to Naruto when he comes back.

In the meantime, she will do her best to fix her other heartbreaks one by one.

-

Sasuke is three weeks late.

Karin senses his approach when he’s little over a day’s journey from the rendezvous point. His chakra signature is distinctive even at this distance -- a sharp, dangerous, tightly-wound thing. She can’t help swooning inwardly at the familiarity of it.

Karin had spent most of her time camped out in the abandoned hut for the past month, under orders to await Sasuke’s arrival. Excited as she is about Sasuke, she cannot wait to get back to Amegakure. The rain is even more miserable outside of the city and she’s beginning to miss absurd things like smashing her fist into Suigetsu’s irritating mug. Her desperation for quasi-human company is a clear indication that the sooner she heads back, the better.

She looks about the hut, littered with signs of her stay. Scrolls and paper wrappers of dry food packets scatter the worn wooden floors. The hut is still overrun with weeds. Every wall has gnarled grooves where creeper flowers native to Rain Country have dug their roots in, but the roof has been patched and the floors cleared of splinters. Karin doesn’t care much for the place, but it has been reinforced with powerful anti-detection seals since the last time she’d been here. The seals stretch out all the way to an underground escape route across a small nearby lake, something she can appreciate because she’s never been and will never be a fighter.

When Team Taka had decided to go under the radar with Orochimaru and Kabuto after the war, this hut had been the first resting place they had allowed themselves. Everyone had been distracted with exhaustion and been reeling from the events of the past few weeks, so it was only Karin who noticed Orochimaru’s faint surprise when he had been inspecting the hut. She had drawn her gaze to what had caught his attentions, only to be confused by the red wooden tile that he was turning about carefully in his hands. She still doesn’t know the details, but she thinks that maybe she can hazard a guess now as to why Orochimaru had chosen to restore the hut at a later date.

Orochimaru had stood at that side of the hut for a long time before he had moved off, curling into a spot near the door, his eyes weary with contemplation. Mounted on the cracked wooden ledge beneath the tile had been the characters for _Jiraiya_ inked in elegant calligraphy. Everyone present had had the sense not to comment.

Karin leans against the barricaded window and squints through the cracks into the rain. She had made frequent trips back into Amegakure whenever the wait for the day hadn’t paid off and her sensing told her that Sasuke wasn’t in the near vicinity. However, there was only so much reading material she could bring along without seeming suspicious when she passed the overzealous checkpoints. She holds two fingers up to help her focus on Sasuke’s chakra signature to satisfy her curiosity. He’s cutting through Grass Country at a good speed. Assuming he isn’t waylaid, he’d likely reach Rain Country by early evening the next day. About damn time.

It is interesting that the Sasuke is taking a roundabout route. Karin frowns as she considers the reasons for it. Last she’d heard, Sasuke had been accepted back into the folds of Konoha, but under strict guard. She wonders at the circumstances under which he had left. Just to be sure, she expands her sensory range to cover a ten kilometre radius around Sasuke. During her time incarcerated –albeit quite kindly— in Konoha, she’d taken note of all chakra signatures within Fire Country and it wouldn’t have been hard to tell if any of them were trailing Sasuke.

She doesn’t sense anyone of note on his heels, which pacifies her for the time being.

There is nothing left to do until Sasuke reaches, so she huddles down on her perch, draws a thin blanket and scroll towards her, then settles in for the wait.

-

Temari paces herself next to Naruto as they speed through Konoha’s lush terrain.

Matsuri looks on the brink of vocal hero worship that she’s certain Naruto wouldn’t appreciate, so she glares the rest of her team into the rear around Sai. Gaara’s charge from the Academy has always been more free-spirited than most, something that Temari is alternately charmed and exasperated by. Further up ahead than is safe for a travel formation, Lee is being chased by Tenten who is snarling threats of physical mutilation if the taijutsu specialist doesn’t _slow the fuck down_.

As usual, Temari finds herself torn between amusement and faint indignance whenever she has dealings with Konoha shinobi. Their utter lack of discipline is a glaring contrast to Suna’s strictly regimented operations and it often rubs her the wrong way. On the other hand, there is something freeing about being in their company, about the way most of them juggle being blasé around authority without being truly disrespectful. She thinks it’s a little like being in a rare rain shower in Suna – a refreshing change, but not one that she would welcome as a constant.

Konoha’s shinobi are also very adept at throwing her off her expectations.

She turns a discreet eye to the blond boy next to her who hasn’t said a word since they’d left Konoha. The placid calm is unnerving despite everything she had witnessed the boy go through during the war.

“Why so dour, Uzumaki?” Temari asks, curious. She can’t help jibing, “You’ll get back to whatever sweetheart you have back home soon enough. No need to fret.”

That, at least, provokes a response from Naruto.

“ _Sweetheart_?! Sasuke’s _not_ my sweetheart! That is a terrible idea.” Naruto looks flummoxed and a little green as he says this.

Temari struggles not to look too taken aback.

“Uchiha?” she croaks, poleaxed, because that _really_ needs clarification. She’d been referring to the Hyuuga girl who’d been hanging off his arm during the war, not the psycho who had tried to bury her and her brothers alive at the Five Kage Summit. It’s a little mind-boggling that Naruto had immediately associated Sasuke with things like _home_ and _sweetheart_ , no matter what he’s refuting now.

“Yes, him. Aargh!” Naruto throws up his hands and grimaces. “I know we’re married and all— Oh, whoops, watch your step, nee-chan— but Sasuke would kill the first person who calls him a sweetheart to his face. Like a _bug_ — Eh, or maybe— Hm…” He trails off, looking contemplative, an expression Temari is familiar with on Kankurou when he’s about to be a gigantic asshole about something. But. No. Wait—

“ _Married_?!” she hisses, trying not to stumble on the next bough again. “Tell me you’re joking. What has Konoha been _doing_? Wasn’t he under house arrest? That’s what your Godaime told Gaara. Why weren’t we invited? No, wait, that’s not it— Have you guys been _fabricating_ reports to us? We’re allies! You do realise Gaara isn’t going to like this.”

Their conversation is drawing an audience. Temari spares a second to shoot a warning glance at Matsuri’s team promising border patrol duty for a very long time if they didn’t shut up. Sai, to Naruto’s misfortune, is under no such compunction to remain quiet.

“I believe you’re mistaken, Temari-san,” he cuts in. “Naruto is just very poor at explaining himself—“

“ _Sai._ ”

“— _small penis_ ,” Sai shoots back without batting an eyelash — Temari doesn’t even want to know — before continuing through his teammate’s spluttering. “Sasuke and Naruto are cohabitating, that’s all. This is the first I’ve heard about impending nuptials.” Which Temari supposes explains Naruto’s uncontextualised, bizarre extrapolation of events. _Married_ , honestly.

“He hasn’t even proposed yet,” Naruto interjects woefully. Unhelpfully. “He can’t be my sweetheart now that he’s run off to find himself again.”

_What?_

Temari growls wordlessly, then gives up diplomacy to curl a hand into the blond’s jumpsuit, dragging him like a ragdoll as she shakes him.

“Are you _seriously_ telling me that Konoha has set its _still-under-probation,_ S-class, _internationally wanted_ criminal on the loose?”

“Hey!” Naruto rasps around her chokehold. “Sasuke’s been pardoned, sort of, and reformed! He cooks dinner and talks to Sakura-chan, and he almost never yells anymore except for the stupidest things. Like toilet paper. Which wasn’t even my fault that one time!”

Temari makes a noise of unbridled _rage_. “Do you even _know_ where he’s gone off to?” she demands, blithely ignoring the axis-tilting incongruency of Uchiha Sasuke being domestic as well as Sai’s mild running commentary about violence towards allies.

“No? Of course not. We trust him! Ow—!”

Temari is twisting Naruto’s ears in vexation because _of course they do_. She wagers Naruto and his damned Rokudaime had probably combined all their powers of considerable blockheadedness to make it happen too. What _was it_ with Konoha and their Uchiha— hadn’t Madara been warning enough? It was perplexing and went against all unspoken rules of the shinobi world. Suna would have executed a threat like Uchiha Sasuke without hesitation, but Konoha had gone off and coddled the boy instead, given him amnesty. Now, they had apparently given him an impossibly long leash to go along with it. _Why_ would they—? How _could_ they think to—?

Her brain is sifting violently through a million political repercussions and possibilities of things going wrong. It makes her want to kill something. She settles for boxing Naruto soundly in the head as an alternative, before hurling him spitefully towards the ground. The wail of dismay and subsequent sounds of crashing are like music to her angry ears. Up ahead, Lee and Tenten have stopped on one of the larger branches. Lee is watching the exchange with wide eyes, but Tenten looks commiserating.

“I see Naruto has filled you in on his stupidity.”

“He and Uchiha Sasuke deserve one another,” Temari agrees with a snarl when her temper is back in check and she feels less likely to attack anyone sporting a Konoha hitai-ate.

It is a full five minutes before Naruto catches up to them, looking considerably worse for wear.

“You’re evil,” he observes from a safe distance, picking stray leaves out of his hair.

Temari’s smile is all teeth. “Don’t pay compliments you don’t mean. You’re explaining to the Kazekage why Suna wasn’t informed of Uchiha Sasuke’s departure from Konoha. If Gaara doesn’t kill you for it, I’ll do the honours.”

Naruto grumbles under his breath, but doesn’t otherwise object.

Temari isn’t the only one to throw a kunai at him when he declares afterwards, “Sasuke is going to take the couch _forever_ when he gets back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those impatient for plot development, I apologise. This chapter was a lot about shameless self-indulgence and experimentation in writing from the perspectives of characters I've never tried writing in before. *heart* Also. I find Hinata interesting, so the way Kishi kind of wrote her off (and, like, ALL the female characters, basically) at the end has niggled at me and I wanted to give her some time to shine~ *flamboyant gesticulation* There's also, of course, the part where she sinks my ship like the Titanic. 
> 
> Many thanks for all the lovely comments! It's absolutely wonderful hearing from you guys. Thank you, as well, to those who have taken the trouble to leave kudos for the work. I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far!
> 
> Edit: Err, there are senseless, bigoted (albeit precisely punctuated) comments that appear to be bothering some readers. I can't be arsed to give those comments any time of the day, but if it matters to anyone or upsets enough of you, just let me know and I'll figure out how to set comments to users-only or something. Cheers, loves.


	5. Inclinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this certainly took some wrangling to get out. I apologise for the slight delay. Enjoy!

Gaara is penning down suggestions for the fortification of Suna’s outer walls when the rapid approach of a foreign chakra signature draws his attention. He carefully caps the ink well he’s been using and sets it aside.

“Stand down,” he says to his empty office as he gets to his feet.

He feels a frisson of bemusement from the concealed ANBU guards. It escalates almost immediately into wire-tight readiness to attack when an orange blur hurtles through one of the windows, sending reinforced glass tinkling everywhere. Gaara braces himself when the shape launches for him.

“ _Gaara_!”

The Kazekage doesn’t channel chakra to his feet because it will do more hurt than good. Instead, he bears the force of Naruto tackling him with as much dignity as he can muster. The ANBU disobey his orders - as he inevitably stumbles - and flicker into his office. Gaara raises a hand to give a firm, nonverbal _disengage_ order while his sand bats away hastily thrown shuriken. Naruto is a warm weight against him, babbling lively and earnest in his ear.  

He’s also glowing a familiar orange-white, the image of which is seared into the memory of everyone who has survived the war.

“Naruto,” Gaara interrupts flatly, “tell me you didn’t use Kurama’s chakra to get here.”

There’s a very telling, very short silence, then Naruto tries surreptitiously to slip away from him.

Gaara acquires a vice grip on his collar.

“It’s Lee’s fault!” Naruto starts explaining plaintively when Gaara gives the Sage markings around his eyes a pointed, disbelieving stare. This close, his eyes are an iridescent gold flecked with hazel around the strange-looking pupil. “We were going really slowly because of Temari-nee-chan, you know? She’s been really scary, by the way— and I haven’t been out of the village in a while, and Lee was excited about coming here, and Suna isn’t _that_ far away from Konoha, so we thought— why not race? Then Lee had to go open Gates and I _couldn’t_ let him cheat that way. You get that, right? So—“

 _Gates_ , Gaara thinks, appalled. The last time he’d witnessed its use, Might Gai had almost died. He tries not to linger on the thought that Lee can be unnervingly similar to his mentor.

“—totally left Lee to eat my dust! Err, sand. And I think I probably broke the record for distance travel between our villages, isn’t that awesome? I’m not even tired! I’ll be able to visit you more often— if you don’t mind, of course, um.”

Naruto’s efforts to distract him are unspeakably charming. Gaara supposes there’s no need to divulge that Haruno Sakura will be receiving a note shortly, with educational guidance discreetly advised for Naruto’s recklessness.

“I see,” Gaara says instead. He beckons one of his ANBU forward. “Locate Temari. Let her know that Uzumaki Naruto has arrived safely. See if you can trace Rock Lee from Konoha along the way—”

Naruto cuts in with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“No, no, let me.” He’s facing northeast, eyes unfocused for a moment, then he grins and holds up a thumb. “Lee’s about ten kilometres from here. Give him fifteen minutes.” A pause and a wince later, he rubs the back of his neck and mutters, “On a scale of one to ten, how likely is your sister to kill envoys of allied villages if provoked?”

“Ten.”

Gaara’s mouth curves slightly as Naruto grumbles something withering about the misuse of fans. He relinquishes his friend’s jacket before dismissing the ANBU with a flick of his fingers.

Once Naruto stops glowing like a beacon from the chakra cloak, Gaara can see that he looks well— a little worn from two days on the road, but robust from the exercise. He notes the bandaged right arm and the way the blond carries himself as though he’s forgotten that it’s there. A recent procedure, he remembers from the last scroll sent by the Hokage, far removed from any realm of medical possibility achievable in Suna.

Before Naruto can offer a hideously phrased apology for the broken glass on the floor, Gaara shows him out the door with a well-placed shove. Kankurou is waiting for them just outside, freshly returned from a mission. His cowl is absent and there are streaks of dirt running through his face paint, but he smirks as he pushes away from the wall.

“Blondie! See you’ve got your arm back.” Kankuro drapes a solicitous arm around Naruto’s shoulders. “How’re ya, kid? Is Konoha still standing? What’s the ramen kill count we’re talking about here?”

Naruto laughs and digs an elbow into Kankuro’s side.

“Konoha’s fine, you jackass! And I’m approaching five hundred bowls, I think. Kakashi-sensei is trying to ban me from Ichiraku for the greater good.” He shakes a fist in mock anger. “The _gall_. Just wait till I’m Hokage. Oi, Gaara! The first thing we’ll do is pass joint legislature for the banning of Icha Icha in Wind and Fire Country.”

Gaara snorts at the idea. “I’m not going to risk the goodwill of my men for your petty squabbles. Pass that yourself.”

“ _Squabbles?”_ Naruto dances with outrage, making a grab for Gaara’s robes that he side-steps neatly. “ _Petty?!_ Why I _never_ — _does our friendship mean nothing to you_?”

“I’m sure it’ll survive one disagreement,” Gaara says dryly in response.

He turns to leave instructions with his secretary before they make the short trip to the building used to host dignitaries. Along the way, Naruto does well in inciting Kankuro’s degeneration into adolescent puerility. True to Naruto’s predictions, Lee arrives in Suna shortly before the paperwork for their stay is completed.

The next day sees Naruto lounging on one of the two settees in Gaara’s office while the Kazekage attends to business. He’s intrigued by the intermittent periods of companionable silence buffering Naruto’s chatter. The blond is more subdued than he remembers, an observation he files away for future reference.

Just as dusk is setting in, Naruto rises abruptly from his sprawl, stretches, then walks briskly to place himself behind Gaara. Used to Naruto’s actions being significant in retrospect, Gaara watches and waits for an explanation.

He feels the furious whip crack of Temari’s chakra entering the building not three seconds later.

Staving off a sigh, Gaara prudently gathers his papers for safekeeping. He turns partially to meet Naruto’s gaze which somehow manages to convey _save me_ , unrepentance, and anticipation all at once. It makes him shake his head, amused despite himself.

“Gaara,” Naruto says, picking at invisible lint on the Kazekage’s official robes. Gaara’s eyes trace the action, wondering at the solemnity of his tone. “I forgot to mention but, err, Sasuke’s not in Konoha at the moment. He left to settle some stuff a few weeks ago.” Naruto scowls. “It’s probably all right to tell you guys, but everyone else seems out for his blood, you know? Temari said you’ll want to kill me for it, and if you don’t, she will. I’d _much rather_ it be you.”

Gaara takes a moment to process this, sorting out the non-sequiturs typical of any verbal exchange with Naruto.

“I’m flattered,” he murmurs shortly. “You _will_ explain this to me later. In great detail.”

Naruto’s squints at him, good humour in the twist of his lips. “So… You’re not angry?”

Of course not, Gaara wants to say.

It’s no secret what Uchiha Sasuke is to Naruto. The spectacle of their collaborated battlefield efforts had made it very clear. While others had marvelled at the synchronicity of their attacks, Gaara had seen beyond that. Gaara had been there when everyone had turned their backs on the Uchiha including the boy himself. He had tried to persuade Naruto from the self-destruction and disappointment waiting at the end of his chase. It had been Gaara who had gone to war against incredible odds only to acknowledge that he might never save the one person he truly wanted to save.

Gaara had seen the intuitive understanding that resonated in every perfectly executed strike made by Sasuke and Naruto despite their years spent apart. They had always defied everything together— labels, limitations, and sheer impossibility. Theirs is a deep-seated connection - _relief_ , _devotion_ , _ease_ , _overwhelming_ _need_ – that he isn’t sure how to place outside the context of a fight.

And _Gaara_. Gaara had felt a slow, _burn_ in his gut at Naruto’s blatant exhilaration, at Sasuke’s dark satisfaction as they had decimated the frontline together.

It would be many weeks before Gaara identified the feeling to be jealousy. The same one that had plagued him for most of his childhood, watching children exclude him from their play. Oddly, recognising the emotion had soothed him. It was natural to crave a bond so complete and consuming when his affinity to Naruto had been based off something else entirely.

So he isn’t angry.  

But before he can say it, he is drowned out by his office door crashing open and Temari storming into the room, eyes flashing. Gaara feels his robes bunch as Naruto hunkers down. His fingers twist into Gaara’s robes as if he’s considering throwing the Kazekage at his sister and making a break for it.

“ _You_ ,” Temari spits as soon as she spots him.

Naruto peers around Gaara’s shoulder. “Hi, nee-chan,” he says, wiggling his fingers cautiously in greeting. “Um. We can talk about this?” Covertly, he stage-whispers, “you’re not giving me up to her, are you, Gaara?”

“You did neglect to mention the Uchiha,” Gaara says, voice free of inflection.

“Hey!” Naruto cries, betrayed. “But— you’re not angry! You didn’t sound angry!”

“I never sound angry,” he agrees. Temari is still looking incandescent with rage, so he exhales and lifts a placating hand. “Temari, Lee and Naruto are both unhurt, and all parties reached safely. You can take it out on both of them in a spar later _away_ from my office.” He feels the tremor of a snicker against the line of his robes and stops himself from rolling his eyes because Naruto’s sense of self-preservation is _abysmal_. “We will brief them now.”

Temari has always been good at taking orders, which is the only reason why Lee lives when he chooses that moment to make his Dynamic Entry.

When everyone is settled and Kankuro summoned, Gaara begins.

“In the spirit of maintaining diplomatic ties between our two nations, the Hokage and I have agreed to have Konoha shinobi in Suna for the time being. There are developments up north that concern both our countries, so you will remain here, acting on orders from your Hokage or myself. Ideally, you will be posted here for half a year, making trips back to Fire Country in between. Combat is not expected, but it will do well for you to be prepared.”

Konoha has excellent shinobi— Tenten and Sai are placid and expressionless as their orders are relayed to them. However, judging by Lee’s earnest confusion and Naruto’s increasingly quarrelsome aura, Gaara gathers fatalistically that their Rokudaime had likely left out everything but the barest of mission specifics in their own briefing. He stifles another sigh as he asks, “questions?”

“North?” Tenten enquires immediately. “As in, Earth Country? Aren’t we at armistice with them?”

“Not Earth. Rain Country,” Temari corrects. “We’ve been monitoring movement across our borders since the war. Our sources confirmed that Akatsuki originated there during Hanzo’s time.” Gaara catches Naruto subtle flinch, but when their eyes meet Naruto shakes his head lightly. He narrows his eyes and makes a note to bring it up at a later date. “Amegakure’s been putting out teams. Nothing high-ranked yet. General escorts or recon.”

“They’re not big enough to have a daimyo, so they’ll never have a Kage.” Kankuro glances distractedly at the map mounted against one of the walls. “But we’re not sure who’s been organising them lately. Last we heard, people were _leaving_. Abandoning houses, businesses, everything. The Alliance never recruited from the smaller nations, so they’ve probably got mixed intel coming from everywhere. My guess is that they were spooked, but something changed and we don’t know what it is. You guys are going to help us find out. If Ame has another Hanzo or Akatsuki coming, we’re going to need to be prepared.”

“But our team isn’t comprised of infiltration or intel specialists,” Lee interjects. “Apart from Sai-kun, Naruto-kun, Tenten, and I are all offensive frontliners.”

“That may be so,” Gaara concedes, “but we’ll have to make do. Infiltration appears impossible at the moment, so we’ll bide our time. Grass and Stone Country have always been hostile territory for the Great Nations. If Amegakure proves detrimental to us, they will likely look for an opening to seize advantage.” He waits for the murmurs of assent to die down before continuing. “Naruto is also under orders to be off-duty until he’s fully recovered. Pending our medics certifying your recovery, _supervised_ light missions and taijutsu only.”

Naruto groans. “I _knew_ it! This _is_ a courier mission! I totally couriered myself over too.”

Gaara looks at him, gaze steady. “It’s a diplomatic exchange, Naruto. You’ll be observing me in office and learning about Kage duties when your guards are away.”

Naruto rallies admirably. “Stop calling it that! Did Kakashi-sensei send me to be your _secretary_?!”

Gaara considers the possibility, ignoring Kankuro’s raised eyebrows, then lifts his shoulders minutely in a shrug. “Perhaps.”

Naruto looks murderous. “I’ll kill him,” he says with feeling.

“We can spar if you’re feeling so much better already,” Temari offers.

Naruto looks at her askance, then makes a show of tidying Gaara’s immaculate desk.

“So,” he says in complete seriousness, “when do I start?”

-

After three and a half weeks of travelling through multiple reroutes, Sasuke finally finds himself in the heart of Orochimaru’s new operations.

Juugo’s smile is small but genuine when Sasuke drops the genjutsu he’s had to use throughout Amegakure. Suigetsu’s greeting is far more gregarious— he surges forward animatedly, a million questions already halfway out his mouth. He’s literally beaten to the punch by Karin who falls into the motion with an unholy measure of glee. 

Sasuke doesn’t know how to react. Their interaction is both familiar and new all at once, because this time he’s actually paying attention instead of being distracted by some far-off goal.  

He had been distantly wary ever since he’d met Karin on the fringe of Amegakure. The dilapidated hut had been concealed by powerful seals, but he’d had no trouble picking it out. Karin’s professional cool had lasted an exceptional minute before she’d buckled against his side and procured his arm for her own. The huge crest of her chakra on the edge of his awareness had reminded him that she was an Uzumaki. That had made him marginally less tense against his better judgment.

Now, flanked by the rest of Team Taka for the first time in a long while, his earlier calm is necessarily replaced by guarded composure. He takes a deliberate sweep of the room, an idle threat in his Rinnegan and Sharingan.    

“You’ve redecorated,” he observes, locking eyes with his ex-mentor.

“I’m glad you approve,” Orochimaru returns wryly. “Welcome to Rain Country, Sasuke-kun.”

He wonders exactly how much of what he remembers of the war hadn’t been skewed by his downward spiral into insanity. The man standing before him on the raised dais is considerably more placid than the lunatic he had once apprenticed himself to. He knows, of course, that Orochimaru had offered aid and knowledge in exchange for nothing during the war, but the sannin had always been a creature of mercurial whim tempered by deadly skill and cunning. Presently, months after the fact, he can discern an absence of the madness that had always lingered in Orochimaru’s eyes. It doesn’t make Sasuke any less cautious, because a grounded shinobi is a formidable one, but he is now inordinately interested in the reasons for the change.

He scans their metal-wrought surroundings. A pervasive gloom lengthens the shadows cast by fires burning in wall sconces. It’s even less welcoming than Oto’s dimly lit catacombs had been.

“Your premises are secure?”

The haughty look he receives for that is more remniscent of the exchanges they’ve had in the past. Sasuke rolls his eyes slightly, because Orochimaru’s hideouts have been compromised time and again. It’s a relevant concern.

“Why Amegakure, why now?” he asks instead of pursuing more of his ex-mentor’s failings.

Orochimaru’s sigh is bewilderingly aggrieved. “Sasuke-kun, when that blond boy of yours becomes Hokage, perhaps you’ll grasp the intricacies of tact— I shudder to consider the state of Konoha’s diplomatic relations otherwise.”

There are so many things wrong with that sentence that Sasuke can only narrow his eyes in response. He has more power than Orochimaru, perhaps enough to best him in a fight, but in wordplay, he has always been - and will probably always be - outclassed. Orochimaru’s gaze is assessing and whatever he reads in Sasuke’s carefully blank face apparently satisfies him, because he murmurs “ _ah_ ” in a soft, loaded way, then drops the subject.

“I had old bones to pick with Ame,” Orochimaru says, folding his arms into the loose sleeves of his black kimono shirt. His face is passive as he continues. “But Hanzo and Akatsuki are long gone here. Amegakure was in need of a leader when we first arrived.”

Sasuke draws a blank for the third time in so many minutes and feels unbidden irritation flash through him. Clearly, Orochimaru has requested his presence solely to baffle him by speaking in incomprehensible riddles.

“Peace, boy. I would hardly volunteer to be candidate,” Orochimaru says, thinly amused as he answers Sasuke’s unvoiced question. “Matters of state tire me. Kabuto is far more suited to it these days. He is, after all, the only successful ANBU operative to have ever infiltrated Ame.”

“Perhaps,” comes a polite voice from the shadows, “but Hanzo-sama kept a close watch on me. He never really trusted anyone.”

Kabuto steps into the light, haloed by silver hair. Sasuke remembers post-Izanagi Kabuto after his own revival by Rikudou, but he still feels a dim sense of gratification on his brother’s behalf. Unlike Orochimaru, Kabuto had always been even-tempered, but his countenance is smoother now, less worn. There are few traces of the man that he and Itachi had taken pains to incapacitate in their last confrontation. An Ame hitai-ate sits across his forehead and he’s missing his glasses, though he has no trouble focusing on Sasuke.

“It’s the reason why I had to stay undercover for as long as I did.” Kabuto turns to level a look at Orochimaru— not quite a glare, but close enough. “I reiterate: I would have liked the choice, suitability or not.”

If the exasperation emanating faintly from the others around him is anything to go by, this isn’t the first time they’ve had this discussion.

Sasuke arches a brow. Kabuto has never liked putting himself at the forefront of anything without other bodies there to impede potential mishaps to his person. Then, because everyone seems incapable of answering his questions, he grits out, “what has Amegakure got to do with _any_ of you? _Why am I here?_ ”

Orochimaru scrutinises him with some measure of surprise.

“Because,” he says eventually, “Amegakure was pledged to Uzumaki Naruto.”

Which is preposterous, because Sasuke can grudgingly attest to Naruto’s absurd charisma, but even the idiot would have noticed if he’d accidentally contracted an entire hidden village. He notes with mounting ire that he isn’t the only one in disbelief. Juugo and Suigetsu are looking suitably stupefied.

“Wait! What the hell?!” Suigetsu gnashes his teeth, holding up a hand as if to halt the entire conversation. “You mean we’ve been working our nuts off tidying up this goddamn place and it _wasn’t even for Sasuke_?”

“For me?” Sasuke says numbly. “Why would it be for me?”

He’s an inch away from stalking out of the building in sheer frustration.

_The time to make settlements has come. We await you in Amegakure._

He’d assumed that some kind of payment or retribution was in order for all his transgressions six months prior. At worst, he was going to gauge the threat the Snake Sannin posed to Konoha, and dispose of him if necessary. This had not been in his calculations.

Orochimaru sighs again with an air of great forbearance and grimaces in Sasuke’s direction.

“What have you and your Uzumaki boy been doing for the past half a year? If he’s anything like Jiraiya was, I’d expect him to have told you everything that’s happened since you deserted Konoha.” The look the Snake Sannin favours him with is distinctly irksome – a combination of displeasure and vague commiseration. “Are you boys still not done fighting?”

That is so unlike anything he’s heard from Orochimaru in the past that Sasuke struggles with an unexpected surge of petulance at the accusation. His relationship with Naruto is still fraught by a strange mix of conviction and tentativeness, but he likes to think that they’ve both been trying hard to repair what Sasuke had once decisively shattered.

“We—” Sasuke forcibly composes himself. “We’re not fighting.”

Orochimaru actually rolls his eyes at him. “If I were more invested in sentimental drivel, I’d be concerned at your idea of what constitutes communication. As it is— has the Uzumaki brat ever mentioned Konan?”

No, Sasuke thinks, he has most decidedly not. Nor has Sasuke been informed of anything with regards to Amegakure. That’s what Orochimaru must discern as well, because he lifts a hand and presses it briefly over his eyes in a disconcertingly long-suffering gesture before addressing him again.

“Perhaps you should _ask_ , Sasuke-kun. Before we proceed with anything else.”

Sasuke acquiesces with a jerk of his chin. He thinks in resignation that, given their history, it is hardly surprising that his relationship with Naruto is now going to be immortalised in epistolary.

-

A fortnight into his stay at Suna, Naruto finds himself trailing Gaara back to the Kazekage’s residence. It’s late at night and temperatures in the desert have dropped enough for Naruto to be huddled within his travel cloak, hands tucked firmly into his pockets.

The rest of his team are away with Kankurou, travelling north to Stone Country. Naruto had kicked up a half-hearted fuss at being left behind, but even he knew that reconnaissance was a shinobi skill he had yet to master. He had done very poorly at it even under Jiraiya’s tutelage when they had been travelling together. He lowers his eyes at the thought of his godfather, sobering. He doesn’t suppose that ache will ever dull.

“Naruto.”

He blinks and turns to find Gaara waiting by the door of a building he’d completely overshot. The Kazekage beckons him over with a slight tilt of his head and doesn’t pry when Naruto follows him sheepishly.

As Naruto is one of the two remaining jinchuuriki in the Elemental Countries, it comes as no surprise that Gaara insists on seeing personally to his safety. From what he can glean off corridor gossip, Suna’s Elder Council is as stuffy as the one back home. They’d much rather have Naruto under ANBU rotation guard, but Gaara had put his foot down – no doubt terrifyingly - so he’s glued to the Kazekage’s hip until his team returns.

The arrangment is great – if Naruto ignores the part where he’s wasting away from the lack of missions and ramen. Gaara is an easy companion, discerning and attentive in a way that few of his friends ever are. It’s a good change of pace, Naruto decides. And while he will always be overly fond of Team Seven, Naruto has never understood Sakura the way he knows Ino does. Sai bamboozles him more often than not, while Kakashi, Iruka, and Yamato will always be mentors, precious people, but not friends. Gaara is different from them. He and Gaara have a bond that not even Sasuke will ever understand, and that quells the unease Naruto has been feeling ever since the bastard had left Konoha.

Naruto is in the process of trying to shuck both of his sandals off at once when Gaara’s voice drifts over, cool and measured.

“It’s not actually customary in Suna to do that.” Gaara is leaning against the entryway, looking on curiously. His gourd has been laid aside, but his sandals are still firmly attached to his feet.

Naruto straightens, cocking his head to the side in question.

“Most of our buildings are constructed on compressed sediments that heat in the day, so the floors tend to be hot,” Gaara explains, leading him through the house. It’s a lot more compact than houses in Konoha, with high ceilings, irregularly shaped rooms, and circular windows lining portions of the walls. There are also small pots of cacti _everywhere_.

“Really?” Naruto makes a face. “I’ve never noticed. We take our shoes off all the time in the guest rooms.”

“That building is maintained especially for our foreign guests,” Gaara says, fingers flying across the multiple fastenings of the vest he wears under his official robes. Naruto unfastens his cloak but keeps his jacket on while Gaara slips into simple loose-fitting blacks. It’s _cold_. Desert ninja are _mad_. “No other building in Suna requires temperature regulation the same way. Most of us were born and bred in the desert. We’re accustomed to the weather.” _Unlike you_ is pretty much implied.

That explains a lot. Like why he’s going to steal all of the blankets in Gaara’s house tonight. Nevertheless, Naruto finds it his duty towards non-Suna nin everywhere to be indignant on their collective behalf. He scoffs loudly, then turns his nose up in the air and stalks away to one of the many bookcases around the bedroom, drawn to its multitude of colourful scrolls.

“You’ve got a lot of stuff on sealing,” he comments after a moment’s perusal, squinting at the titles but not touching them. A wise decision as Gaara walks over a second later and forms a quick series of handseals. A ripple of chakra tells him that wards have just been undone.

Gaara runs a forefinger past the rows of scrolls before picking one out and handing it to Naruto who unfurls it with interest. He isn’t the best with seal work if at all, but the basics that Jiraiya had tried to knock into him come back vaguely as he studies a portion of the scroll.

“I was always looking for information on my own sealing,” Gaara says. Naruto flicks his eyes quicksilver over the other boy’s face, searching, then returns his gaze to the scroll. He thinks he understands. Perhaps, he would have done the same if he’d known about Kurama earlier.

“They let you collect these even as a jinchuuriki?” Naruto wonders. He’s _really_ not that great with seals, but even he can tell that some of the techniques described on the scroll would be forbidden and locked away in Konoha.

“Of course not,” Gaara says with a soft snort. “But as Kazekage, I have clearance to all documents in the village.”

Naruto grimaces and decides to be noble anyway despite his curiosity. “Should you even be showing me this?”

Gaara manages to convey _no, of course not, but I am allowing it all the same_ with nothing more than a slow blink and the barest quirk of his lips. It’s insane, but Naruto figures that he associates with asocial geniuses on a regular enough basis to read them correctly. He sees Shikamaru almost every day back home at any rate, although the Nara is a veritable social butterfly in comparison to Sasuke, Gaara, or Sakura-chan on a bad day.

“Do you miss him?” Naruto finds himself asking. “Shukaku, I mean. I heard you guys hit it off at some point before that statue got to them.”

Gaara doesn’t seem uncomfortable to be asked, only pensive as he considers the question.

“My seal was very different from yours,” he says eventually. “I had no rest when Shukaku was around. We never managed to forge a bond while I was his jinchuuriki. The seal was always too unstable since it was made ready to be compromised.” It’s nothing new, but the reminder floods Naruto with white, hot anger. His jaw tightens, and Gaara softens visibly when he catches the movement. A beat, then the redhead turns slightly to the right, looking out one of the windows. “I’ve never given it thought, but I don’t miss Shukaku… though his absence is felt.”

Naruto nods slowly. It’s hard to imagine life after having a bijuu extracted. Naruto is the only one to have survived the process, and that was only because he’d had Kurama’s yin half sealed back into him. Gaara had _died_.

“Fifteen years,” he says, brushing his hand fleetingly against Gaara’s. “It’s a long time even if you guys hated each other.”

Gaara smiles thinly. “I think we came to an understanding during the war. He doesn’t like being outdone.”

Naruto laughs and thumps his own chest. “Oh, I _know_. A little bit of him and Octopops got sealed into me too. Kurama’s still the boss though.” He feels Kurama radiate reluctant smugness from the depths of his mind.

There’s a short, comfortable silence.

“Do you think you guys would get along better now?” Naruto asks. “That is— If you guys could get sealed again, would you want to?”

Gaara studies him and correctly draws a conclusion.

“You want to reseal Kurama’s other half,” he says sharply.

One day, Naruto is going to find it in him to really dislike people who flaunt their higher brain functions. It’s just too bad most of them are his precious people.

Gaara’s brows are drawn together. “The sealing will be dangerous. The older the jinchuuriki, the higher the risks.” He seems to recite the last bit. Likely from the scrolls he’s read, Naruto thinks, shooting the bookshelf a look.

Naruto sighs. He’s had this conversation a few times in his head with a Kurama, but neither of them are scholars on the subject and this is the first time he’s brought it up to anyone else.

“Kurama says there should be a way, but I don’t have the knowledge or chakra control to perform the sealing myself yet.” He rolls up the scroll and hands it back to Gaara. “If the bijuu are willing, it’s not so much a seal as a merging of consciousness. It’s always been dangerous before because they struggle against the process and harm the vessels or try to escape even after the sealing.” He studies the labels on the other scrolls as he speaks. “It just feels wrong to leave Kurama split up this way, and he thinks so too. So we’re working on it.”

There’s a contemplative air about Gaara as he listens.

“I wouldn’t reseal Shukaku even if I could, but Suna’s resources are yours to use,” he offers at last. “I advise caution when you go through our records. My predecessors treated the bijuu as weapons and Suna’s seals are designed for subjugation. It was the speciality of our sealing corps in the war.”

Naruto remembers watching the sealing at work. It had given him a sense of great relief during the war, but put like that, he doesn’t like it even if it makes sense.

“Thanks,” he says anyway, because Gaara is probably shattering hundreds of security protocols just for him and he’s grateful for it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He thinks of how Kurama is confined to live through his thoughts and experiences, remembers the bijuu relishing in their freedom, and thinks that maybe he understands Gaara’s choice too. He feels his companion’s weighted gaze on him as he studies the bookshelf with a wince.

“So. How many scrolls do you have on sealing?”

Gaara hums thoughtfully. “Fifty-eight.”

Naruto can’t help his bug-eyed disbelief. That’s more than he’s ever read in his life even counting what Iruka-sensei had forced on him over the course of multiple detentions.

“In this shelf,” Gaara amends mildly.

Naruto splutters.

“I’d have to stay in Suna forever to finish those,” he says weakly. This is met with an annoying look of approval from the Kazekage. He glares. “You _do_ know that I belong to another hidden village, right?”

Gaara gives another one of his imperceptible shrugs.

“You should get started, then,” he suggests in the face of Naruto’s dubious regard of the surrounding shelves. “There are a hundred-and-thirty-eight of them in total.”

“ _Mngh_.”

-

As a rule, _no one_ keeps Ino waiting. Downtime for her is rare between her shifts at the flower shop and being Morino Ibiki’s latest chew toy at T &I. She’d been saving a booth at the latest food fad restaurant for twenty minutes when Sakura shows up looking like she’d been on the field instead of at the hospital. Ino watches her friend stumble into the opposite seat with a grunt and can’t quite find it in her to gripe about the virtues of punctuality.

“Rough day?” Ino says dryly when the other kunoichi has choked down half a jug of water and looks less likely to keel over from dehydration and stress.

“Sorry, Ino. Shishou had me repairing nerve damage to chakra pathways of amputated limbs,” Sakura groans. “ _Five hours._ My head is killing me.” Despite her obvious fatigue, Ino notes that Sakura’s fingers are completely steady when she goes for the menu. “We can apply the research from Naruto’s graft across the board now, but the control needed for the procedure is ridiculous.”

It’s common knowledge that only Tsunade and Sakura are able to administer this particular brand of healing. While a little part of Ino is vexed that Sakura has achieved yet another thing she can never hope to accomplish, she’s mostly gratified and proud on her friend’s behalf. Despite all of the petty grievances they’ve suffered one another, Sakura will always be the pink-haired, jade-eyed doll that Ino had defended when they were children.

“This one,” Ino says at present, tapping at the specialty item on the menu. She takes vague note of the information on its collagen-rich ingredients. “Kurenai-sensei recommended it.”

“Trust kunoichi to know what to order at a place called _Beauty Hotpot_ ,” Sakura snorts. Her eyes trail the list of professed beauty-enhancing properties. “We’ll have that then. I definitely need a pick-me-up.”

They exchange pleasantries as the hotpot is set up in front of them and all the condiments laid out on the table. Once that is done and the servers are out of the way, Ino flips through a rapid series of seals and wards their booth against eavesdroppers.

Ino is sealed against divulging any information from T&I, but what she hears from other sources is fair game.

“Any news?” she asks first as they eye the broth coming to a boil.

Sakura rests her chin on her hands with a world weary sigh. “You know how Naruto is like— he never writes when he travels, that idiot. But I received word from the Kazekage.”

Ino’s eyebrows rise fractionally. “From Gaara? Unofficially?”

“Off the record,” Sakura confirms with a slight tilt to her lips. “Naruto and Lee were idiots. They made it to Suna in two days and left the rest of the delegation behind. Temari-san is out for their blood so I’ve been told that Naruto will need _reformation_ before he makes a habit out of it.”

They share a laugh over that, but sober all too soon.

Sakura’s news is almost always good or interesting. Ino, on the other hand, is the teammate of Konoha’s young strategist-in-training. Shikamaru is allowed into meetings that wouldn’t usually permit the presence of teenagers. However, with their resources as it is, Shikamaru’s brain is one of Konoha’s best assets now apart from Kakashi.

“Repopulation,” Ino says slowly, and the angry light in Sakura’s eyes tells her that the other kunoichi understands all its implications, but she continues anyway. “Too many clans are on the verge of extinction. The Council’s trying to pass a law to breed the next generation of shinobi to make up for the losses.”

“ _Breed,_ ” Sakura breathes, and the word lingers distastefully in the air. “Are they going to enforce it?” she asks, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

“Shikamaru said it’s a toss up at the moment. Tsunade-sama is standing her ground, as is Kakashi-sensei, but the Hatake are one of the few shinobi with lightning affinity in Fire Country, so the Council is pushing a strong case.” Ino worries her lip, upending a bowl of tofu into the pot. “Sasuke-kun came up quite a few times too.”

It’s a touchy subject to broach, but Ino weathers it out, because even through the veneer of calm that she has, she’s equally incensed.

“He _just_ got back,” Sakura snaps furiously. “They _can’t_.”

“They _will_ if this gets passed,” Ino says with a touch of regret. “It’s best if you and Naruto break the news to him first before the Council gets to it.” Her eyes soften because Sakura is going all flinty and battle-hardened, like she’s considering rending her teeth through anyone who gets to her boys. Ino doesn’t put it past her either. There are boundaries and morals she would cross for Shikamaru and Chouji in under a heartbeat. No one messes with whatever family they have left.

“Tsunade-sama, Hyuuga Hiashi, and Chouji’s dad,” Sakura says after a pregnant pause. “They need to be the councillors for when Naruto becomes Hokage.”

“Chouza-ojichan?” Ino murmurs in surprise.

At that, Sakura smiles. “The Akimichi are kind, have the biggest, most widespread clan in Konoha, and have an heir loyal to Naruto. I can’t think of anyone better to serve our village.”

Ino blinks, slightly stumped, before she smiles back warmly. Sakura is right, of course.

They eat their dinner with relish, because unsavoury topics or no, they are kunoichi, and they understand basic needs of survival in a way that civillians cannot always comprehend. They will need strength for what they need to do from here on out.

Before Ino releases the wards to their booth, she seals both of their memories against prying as a precaution. If there’s anything she’s learnt from T&I, it’s that no amount of insurance is ever enough. Sakura is eyeing her, pleased in the same way Ino always is for the other girl’s achievements.

They part for the night at the intersection between clan lands and civillian housing.

Instead of heading straight home, Ino makes a beeline for the Yamanaka library.

She has research to do and plans to make before she sleeps.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as usual, for all the heartfelt comments and encouragement. They mean the world to me. <3


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